


Ineffable Holiday 2020

by IneffableToreshi



Series: Good Omens Advent Calendar 2019 [28]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Mild Smut, Shameless Smut, Smut, Snow, Snow Day, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:20:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 35,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27818170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableToreshi/pseuds/IneffableToreshi
Summary: It's the holiday season once again! You KNOW that means that I couldn't resist writing another batch of stories featuring our favorite celestial boys!This daily countdown of stories roughly continues from where last year's stories did, so you should check those out as well, but it's definitely not required reading. This is, basically, going to be a month worth of fluff and smut and happy angel-and-demon domestic loveliness! ENJOY! XD
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Advent Calendar 2019 [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550176
Comments: 350
Kudos: 171





	1. Day 1: Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 of this year's Ineffable Holiday is "Snow", and yeah, I devolved into smuttiness right from the get-go. What can I say...I know what I like! XD
> 
> \---
> 
> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

Snakes, as we know, are cold-blooded creatures, also known as ‘exothermic’. They are incapable of regulating their body temperature automatically, and thus are required to seek outside heat sources in order to keep themselves warm. Winter climates, therefore, are not what one might call ‘pleasant’ for our scaled, slithery friends. Even demonic ones.

For one specific demon named Anthony J. Crowley, this particular fact was one that was occasionally forgotten - and just as often dismissed - when faced with the happiness of one angel named Aziraphale, who positively  _ adored _ winter. 

It had been a singularly disgusting Autumn, featuring only a handful of half-decently acceptable days during which those who enjoyed such things could stroll and admire the vibrant colors and scents and sights. The majority of the season had been cold, wet, dark, and depressing. Most of those who valued their health - both physical and emotional - had been spending a rather large portion of their time sequestered indoors, waiting hopefully (if not a little grumpily) for the weather to finally change. It was an unsurprising turn of events, therefore, when the first snow of winter began to fall on the first of December and Aziraphale practically  _ sprinted _ outside to enjoy it.

Crowley followed at a much more leisurely pace, smiling fondly as he retrieved hats, gloves, and coats from the closet in the foyer of their South Downs home. When he finally found himself outside, wrapping a tartan-print fleece number around his angel’s shoulders, he chuckled at the flush on the other’s cheeks. “Aren’t I supposed to be the impulsive one who rushes in - or out, I suppose - without thinking?” he murmured through a grin. 

Then Aziraphale turned to smile back at him, and all the air went out of the demon’s lungs. The angel was  _ glowing _ amid the fluffy white flakes that fell around him, occasionally sticking in his cloud-like curls. Brilliant blue eyes were wide and childlike, radiating with a happiness that nearly knocked Crowley flat on his arse. Six thousand years and roughly two of those spent properly  _ together _ , and the demon could still be brought to a stammering, stuttering halt by the simple, shining beauty of the being he loved more than life itself. 

Aziraphale accepted his winter clothes gratefully, his smile never faltering for even a moment as Crowley helped slide the gloves onto his hands. “Oh but look how beautiful it is, dearest!” he exclaimed, lifting his face to the sky so that several lucky flakes were able to kiss his flushed cheeks. 

Crowley’s own cheeks warmed at the sight. With Aziraphale’s hands still in his own, the demon leaned forward with the intention of capturing a kiss, only for the angel to suddenly twirl and stride off through the garden, dragging Crowley along with him. 

They strolled through the winter wonderland for quite some time. Their own garden came first, the walk punctuated by encouraging words from the angel, who inspired the plants to be brave and resilient in the face of the oncoming season. Crowley added silent glares that he knew the plants would understand just as clearly as Aziraphale’s kind words. When the flora were properly motivated, the celestial pair wandered further, off into the acreage beyond their home. 

They walked along the cliffs, watching as the beach slowly became a sea of white to meet the sea of blue. They hiked through wooded areas, observing the various little creatures skittering about, hurrying to complete their pre-season preparations. They wandered into town to wave at children building snow sculptures and shop-owners sweeping the powder from their front doors. 

All along the way Aziraphale’s smile never faltered, his cheerfulness never cracked for even a moment, and that innocent joy was what kept Crowley moving forward, stubbornly capable of following his angel to the ends of the universe if need be, even as his body grew colder, and stiffer, and more tired. 

It was growing dark when they finally made their way back up to their home, which had been enveloped in white in their absence. Aziraphale lifted a hand and snapped his fingers to clear a path to the front door, and a grateful Crowley stumbled through the portal behind him. 

Here, safely back in their home, Crowley finally allowed his fatigue to hit him as he leaned back against the closed door with a particularly violent shiver. And it was only then, as he turned from hanging his coat back in the closet, that Aziraphale looked at the demon and his grin finally fell. 

“Oh darling,” he fussed, fluttering forward to press a hand to Crowley’s chilled cheek. “Are you alright? Oh dear, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have kept you out so long today. I know how the cold affects you so. You really should have told me that you were getting overwhelmed! I’m afraid that I just got so caught up in-”

A still-gloved finger found the angel’s lips, gently silencing him. A smile quirked Crowley’s lips, even as his eyelids drooped, low and languorous. “Shush,” he said, a soft sound, a bit slurred. “Would’nt’a come if I di’n’t want t’ be there w’ you.”

Aziraphale visibly melted in the face of such a declaration from the demon. “Oh, darling…” he sighed, his smile returning in full force. “My foolish, lovely, wonderful darling.”

Slowly, tenderly, taking great cares that were strictly unnecessary but deeply appreciated none-the-less, the angel led his beautiful, ridiculous husband into the living room, gently stripping away his layers as they went. By the time they arrived at their destination there was a roaring fire burning in the hearth, and a pile of plush blankets laying on the floor in front of it. 

“Tryin’ ta seduce me, angel?” Crowley smirked, even as his body shuddered even harder at the baring of skin. 

“I’d hardly have to put in an effort for  _ that _ , dearest,” Aziraphale shot back with a sly smirk of his own. 

“Valid,” the demon admitted.

The angel chuckled. With a gentlemanly flourish he helped the now-bare-chested demon down into the pile of blankets and carefully divested him of his socks and trousers as well. Only when Crowley was comfortably laying in front of the fire in naught but his tight black pants did Aziraphale finally go to work on his own clothes. 

Crowley watched, unabashed, his body slowly absorbing the heat from the fire as his cheeks warmed in anticipation of his angel’s reveal. He wondered if he would ever grow any less enamoured with every inch of skin, every knowing smile, every playful bounce of a soft white curl… He expected not. If six thousand years hadn’t done anything to tamper his desire and adoration, it was unlikely to happen any time soon. And that was perfectly fine with him. 

Aziraphale’s unintentional (or was it?) striptease simultaneously seemed to last a lifetime and to be over far too quickly, but the next bit was objectively even better. Crowley’s foolish heart fluttered beneath his ribs as his angel, clad now in only a pair of tartan-print boxer shorts, knelt down onto the blankets and crawled over him, pressing warm kisses to his trembling stomach and chest as he went. 

Once they were face-to-face, Aziraphale met Crowley’s eye and grinned in a thoroughly cheeky manner. “Feeling a little warmer now, darling?” he queried.

If he were being perfectly honest, Crowley was beginning to feel a bit as though he had molten lava for blood, but he wasn’t about to let on that easily. “Mmmm...a bit,” he hummed, lifting a hand to drag his fingers along his angel’s broad shoulder. “A little more skin-to-skin should do it though,” he added, strategically nibbling at his lower lip. 

Aziraphale huffed a soft little laugh, but also leaned in closer, pressing his lovely, lightly-furred belly against Crowley’s long, lean one. “Well, who am I to deny you an important survival technique?” he chuckled and nuzzled his nose against the demon’s jawline. 

“Nnng…” Crowley responded with his famous rapier wit. His mind went gloriously blank as strong, hot fingers pressed down along his sides, eliciting little shivers that had nothing to do with the temperature. 

The tip of Aziraphale’s tongue flicked out to tease Crowley’s earlobe, sending the demon into a series of soft, blissful sighs. “I must thank you, my dearheart,” the angel whispered, his hot breath caressing the demon’s throat. “You indulge me so, even to your own discomfort.” Lips trailed, feather-light, down the demon’s neck, hovering for a moment at his Adam’s apple, before moving down to trace his collarbone. “Shall I show you,” he murmured against trembling flesh, “what it means to me, my love?”

Crowley would have liked to be able to say that he provided a proper, well-worded response worthy of his angel’s flowery prose, but the most he was able to muster was a wordless whimper of discordant consonants, and a nod. 

Aziraphale, of course, didn’t mind this at all. On the contrary; he smiled against his demon’s skin as he languished his body with kisses, licking playfully at first one nipple, then the other. By the time his tongue dipped into the demon’s naval, Crowley was writhing beneath him, making all manner of little desperate noises that both embarrassed and thrilled the demon. 

“A-angel…” he gasped, leaning back into the blankets and arching his back. 

Warm fingers dipped beneath the elastic of Crowley’s pants, wriggling them down bit by bit to reveal the flushed hardness aching to be free. Unable to contain himself, Aziraphale leaned down to press his lips to that hot flesh, reveling in the way Crowley bucked and groaned at the touch. “What do you wish, my love?” he asked, voice heavy, breathless. 

For a few long moments Crowley failed to respond with more than gasps and needy little whines. Aziraphale waited patiently, kissing down quivering thighs as he slowly removed the demon’s pants fully. Eventually, when he’d had time to convince himself - as he still often did - that it was okay to ask for what he wanted, Crowley looked down at his angel through lidded eyes and finally answered the question. 

“Hold me?” he asked, barely a whisper, golden eyes shining bright in the firelight. “Wrap yourself around me and…” His voice caught, but Aziraphale understood. They had both spent a great deal of time learning the multitude of ways to truly understand one another. 

Aziraphale pressed a kiss to the top of one still-chilly foot, then the other, and then crawled back up over his darling demon to capture his mouth in a firm, claiming kind of kiss. When he pulled back a moment later it was with a sigh of, “Your wish is my command, dearest.” 

With the delicious strength that Crowley knew his angel for and was desperately aroused by, Aziraphale easily manipulated their bodies until the demon was laying on his side, the angel nestled up behind him, chest pressed to back. With practiced movements Aziraphale wriggled out of his boxer shorts, tossed them aside, and wrapped his arms around Crowley, pulling him in tight. 

“How’s this, dearheart?” the angel breathed, face nestling against crimson locks. 

Crowley took a moment to take a few deep breaths and wriggle against his angel’s body before responding. “S’perfect, angel,” he sighed happily. Then he allowed himself a little smirk and pressed his backside against Aziraphale’s fully hard length. “But I’m feeling a bit impatient tonight, you know…” he suggested with a hopeful note in his voice. He felt the pleasant rumbles of Aziraphale’s chuckle against his back. 

“I suppose you deserve it for such a lovely day,” the angel allowed, and without further warning he lifted his fingers from Crowley’s skin in order to snap them. 

Crowley gasped as his body became miraculously prepared, and groaned when Aziraphale reached down between them to line himself up. “Yesss,” he hissed before the angel could ask the question that he knew was coming. “Yesss, please, angel-”

With permission emphatically given, Aziraphale hesitated no longer, pressing forward in a single long, firm thrust that drew a shuddering keen from the demon and a sharp gasp from himself. Crowley rolled his hips instinctively, delighting in the fullness, the warmth, and the way his angel wound protectively around him. 

They moved in tandem, starting out slowly before working into a rhythm that was no less delicious for its familiarity. The fire burned hot before them, while behind, on the other side of the large picture window, the snow fell soft and steady. Minutes or hours could have passed and Crowley wouldn’t have known the difference, because his whole world was right here, gripping him close and plunging into him again and again and again… The slow drag followed by the sharp thrust had the demon muttering nonsense, begging for more, crying Aziraphale’s name and twisting his hips to encourage the angel to hit that perfect spot with reckless abandon over and over and over and... 

Some time later, after far more releases than were strictly possible for the forms they inhabited, the angel and the demon lay against one another in front of their fire, gazing into one another’s eyes and running tender fingers across sweat-slicked skin. 

“Well warmed-up now, my love?” the angel asked with a sly smirk and a sparkle in his eye. 

“Mmmm…” the demon hummed, besotted and blissfully brainless. “Perfectly, angel…thank you.”

Aziraphale’s fingers reached up to brush across Crowley’s forehead, capturing a few rogue strands of hair and sweeping them back behind the demon’s ear. He huffed a little chuckle and leaned in to peck his darling on the tip of his nose. “No need to thank me for doing something I so enjoy, my love.”

“Oh?” Crowley responded by slithering his newly warmed snakey body around his beautiful angel. 

“In that case, shall we take a stroll in the snow again tomorrow?”


	2. Day 2: Ice Skating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 of Ineffable Holiday is "Ice Skating", and one angel is not onboard with this choice of recreational activity!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

“I...I don’t think I can do this, Crowley…”

Aziraphale gulped, fidgeted, and frowned. He was more anxious than he had felt in a long time, possibly since he had wandered into Hell wearing Crowley’s corporation as a disguise. He felt absolutely certain that this endeavour was going to end in pain, tears, and humiliation. And yet-

When the angel looked up he met a set of warm, golden eyes peering lovingly (if a bit mischievously) from over the top of a pair of dark sunglasses. The demon who owned those eyes had a quirk of a smile on his lips, an eyebrow lifted in amusement, and both of Aziraphale’s hands gently cradled in his own. 

“You can,” the demon insisted, not a hint of hesitation or disbelief in his tone. “You’re the bravest being I know, and you can do anything. This is nothing.” There was a deep conviction in his voice, even if there was a glimmer of a snicker threatening to break free as well. “Besides, you  _ did  _ promise.”

Aziraphale cringed at the reminder, and immediately began to seek some kind of bargaining prospect. “Well, yes, I  _ did _ , but I hardly knew that they were going to choose  _ this _ of all things, and you know that I’ve never been particularly graceful or light on my feet, and-”

Crowley easily stopped his angel’s tirade with a single finger placed gently against pouting pink lips. “None of that,” he insisted, just the tiniest hint of a growl in his throat. “I don’t know who you think you’re talking about right now, but  _ my  _ husband is capable of anything he sets his mind to. He learned the bloody Gavotte, after all.” 

That, at least, got a bit of a chuckle out of Aziraphale. He scrunched up his nose and bit his lip, and after a few more moments of wondering how he’d gotten himself into this position he finally sighed a resigned, “Oh  _ fine. _ ” Then, before Crowley’s grin finished spreading across his frustratingly handsome face, the angel added, “But don’t you  _ dare _ let go of me!”

The demon’s teeth practically shone in the gleaming sunlight. “Shouldn’t be an issue,” he huffed playfully, “since I’d never actively  _ choose _ to let go of you, angel.” 

Aziraphale gave Crowley a little swat on the arm for that, but he was smiling, albeit nervously. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and nodded. Then Crowley stepped to the side and together they faced the scene of Aziraphale’s discomfort. 

Five preteens stood a few feet away, some of them with their arms crossed, a few of them snickering, each of them standing with absolutely no problem at all on thin metal blades on top of a thick expanse of ice. 

“Alright there?” Adam asked, a knowing grin on his face. Beside him Warlock was hiding a laugh behind a black mitten, while the rest of the Them innocently pretended they hadn’t heard a word of Crowley and Aziraphale’s discussion. 

“Tickety-boo!” the angel replied, and if his voice shook just a little, no one mentioned it. 

The children set off slowly, promising to stay close, while Crowley held Aziraphale’s arm tight and carefully helped him to inch his way onto the ice. 

The moment his second skate touched the slippery surface, the angel felt his center of gravity shift. His heart found its way to his throat, pushing out a little yelp of terror as it went. He braced himself, body tense -

\- but he didn’t go down. Crowley’s arm had wrapped around him, one hand firm against his hip while the other gripped the opposite elbow. He’d slipped his glasses up on top of his head so there was nothing blocking Aziraphale from seeing the positively overwhelming devotion shining down at him from those eyes he so adored. “Don’t worry, angel,” the demon hummed, sweet and soft. “I won’t let you fall.”

The phrasing wasn’t lost on Aziraphale, whose chest suddenly felt quite tight and warm. For several long, pounding heartbeats all the angel could do was gaze into those lovely eyes that he’d admired for millennia. “I believe you, darling,” he whispered, eyelashes fluttering. “And I trust you.”

Crowley’s lips parted, his eyes widened slightly, a pink flush to the sharp lines of his cheeks. He seemed almost as though he was going to say something…

“Hey lovebirds! You coming or what?!” 

The good-natured chuckling from the children that followed Pepper’s outburst caused the pink of Crowley’s cheeks to evolve into a bright apple red that spread across his entire face, and just like that Aziraphale was laughing too, full to the brim with love. 

“Come on then, dearest,” the angel insisted with a mocking huff. “Kindly teach me the basics so we can show these young whippersnappers who’s the boss.” 

Crowley’s answering snort was painstakingly adorable.

“Yessir, Mr Principality, Sir.” 


	3. Day 3: Hot Cocoa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 is "Hot Cocoa", and I couldn't resist delving back into NSFW territory. Shout-out to the Twitter Good Omens NSFW Fic Club for helping me come up with ideas for this one. 😁

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

Aziraphale took a long, slow sip of his hot cocoa. His eyes fluttered closed as a soft humm left him - auditory proof that he approved of the drink’s quality. It was a very high-quality powder, prepared with whole milk heated slowly on the stovetop, finished off with gourmet marshmallows and just a hint of cinnamon. It was positively top-notch stuff. 

At least, Crowley  _ assumed  _ it was. He hadn’t actually tasted it himself, having made it specifically for his angel. 

Aziraphale took another sip, eyes still gently closed as he considered the flavors, and Crowley thought he might crawl out of his skin. He was trying oh, so hard to be still, to be good, but it was becoming more and more difficult with each passing second, especially considering the state he was currently in. 

You see, the materials for the hot cocoa that Aziraphale was currently considering with the manner of a professional wine taster had come from an expensive artisan kit that Crowley had ordered specially online for his angel. And, currently, several of the included ingredients and toppings were spread artistically across the demon’s prone, bare body as he awaited his lover’s thoughts on the drink he had prepared. 

He was beginning to worry that he was going to bloody explode. 

“H-how is it, angel?” he choked out before a sharp swallow that highlighted how dry his throat was. 

With the steaming mug still held close to his face, little tendrils of steam winding past porcelain skin, Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered open and regarded Crowley in a way that made the demon shiver all over. For a long moment the angel simply looked his fill - apparently dedicated to making Crowley squirm for as long as possible - and then,  _ finally _ , his lips cracked into a sly smile. “Oh dearest,” he purred. “It is positively divine.”

The way the angel’s voice rumbled through his chest, a hint of  _ hunger _ lying underneath, had Crowley’s toes curling with desperate anticipation. It took some doing to convince his own throat to produce sound, but somehow he just barely managed to croak out, “Ready for dessert then?”

And  _ oh… _ That bloody smile. That bit of a bastard shining through the angelic veneer. It would surely be the death of the demon. 

Very slowly, carefully, deliberately, Aziraphale moved to the table beside the bed and settled his mug there with a stern look to ensure it remained at the perfect temperature. Then he turned back to Crowley and held the demon’s gaze, unfalteringly, as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirtsleeves and began to roll them up to his elbows. 

“C-could just...take it all off?” Crowley suggested even as his throat became somehow more dry. “No ch-chance of a mess then.”

Aziraphale hummed, as though considering it, but ultimately settled his demon with a deliciously stern look instead. “There will be no mess,” he insisted - demanded, “because you’re not going to move an inch, are you? You’re going to be good for me, my darling, aren’t you?”

_ Fuck _ ...Crowley was so hard he was aching. His cock twitched at Aziraphale’s commanding tone, and he willed it to behave itself. “Yesss…” he hissed, fighting to keep his breathing even. “I’ll be good for you, angel.”

Aziraphale made a pleased sound and rewarded Crowley by running his fingers through the hair at the crown of his head, massaging into the scalp. Crowley melted into the touch with a little groan. Silently, he told himself, in no uncertain terms, that he was  _ not  _ going to move until his angel gave him permission. 

It was sweet, delectable torture, every moment of it. Aziraphale’s tongue teased and tormented as it traveled all over the demon’s adorned form. His lips moved with purpose against sweetened skin, licking up cream and candies and syrups and moaning with pleasure with every new flavor. When he pressed the flat of his tongue to one of Crowley’s nipples the demon curled his fingers into the bed sheets beneath him in an attempt to ground himself. When the angel had cleaned the chocolate from his throat and proceeded to suck a possessive mark into the skin there, Crowley let out a high-pitched whimper that he would most definitely  _ not _ own up to later. 

And through it all the demon kept perfectly still, barely even  _ breathing _ , determined to please his angel, to be  _ good _ for him…

It may have been minutes or hours later - time meant nothing when Aziraphale’s lips were on him - but eventually the angel settled between the demon’s spread legs and examined his work with dark, lidded eyes. 

“Oh darling, you’ve been so very good for me,” he sighed, pink tongue flicking out to lick his lips. “Only one more place to clean, my love. Do you think that you can keep being good until I’m finished?”

Crowley keened, a needy, absolutely desperate sound. In lieu of the words he couldn’t seem to come up with, he offered his angel a tiny, rapid nod. The grin he received in response very nealy undid him right then and there. 

“Oh  _ lovely _ …” Aziraphale praised. Then, without any further hesitation, he leaned down and took the head of Crowley’s cock between his lips. 

The sounds that came from the demon as his angel’s mouth cleaned him of the last vestiges of flavored syrup were certainly heard all the way in town, and Crowley couldn’t have bloody cared less. He moaned and gasped and swore and sobbed, and stubbornly, resolutely  _ refused _ to move until he had permission. Not when Aziraphale hummed, sending shockwaves through him. Not when the angel’s tongue pressed flat and firm against the base of him and dragged slowly all the way up. Not even when the angel took him to the back of his throat, hollowing his cheeks and  _ sucking _ . 

Crowley was  _ saturated _ in pleasure, tears streaming down his face, when Aziraphale finally pulled off of him just long enough to growl a possessive, “ _ Good boy... _ come for me now, my good boy…” before wrapping his lips back around him. 

The command was all it took. Crowley shook apart at the seams, broke into a thousand pieces, fell into wave after wave of intense pleasure that left him feeling absolutely, positively  _ wrecked _ . 

When every last drop of evidence had been devoured, Aziraphale crawled up over his lover’s body to capture his mouth in a soft, soothing kiss. “Such a good boy…” he hummed happily, his smile as bright as the sun. 

It took effort in his destroyed state, but Crowley managed to offer a return, albeit sleepy, smile. He was certain his eyes were glowing with adoration. 

“Glad you liked your hot cocoa, angel.” 


	4. Day 4: Carolling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley had been planning a little surprise for Aziraphale for the holidays, and it is about to come to fruition. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

It had been ridiculously difficult to keep the whole thing a secret. For all that Crowley teased and tormented, he knew better than anyone that Aziraphale was very attentive, astute, and clever. Therefore he’d needed to be extra careful, extra sneaky, and use all his powers of subterfuge to the peak of his abilities in order to keep the angel from finding out about his little plot. 

But now it was finally the day. Somehow he had managed to keep the surprise hidden, and it was at last time to make the reveal.

“Fancy a walk, angel?” he queried, casually, while swiping through his phone from the living room sofa. 

On the other side of the room, Aziraphale looked up from the book he’d been reading in his squashy armchair by the fireplace. There was a soft, pleased smile on his face, but a bit of uncertainty in his eyes. “That sounds lovely, dearest, but are you sure?” he countered. “It’s not too chilly out for you, is it?”

Though his natural demonic nature would have had Crowley scoff and hiss and argue over the implication of his own weakness, he rather felt a warmth rise to the back of his neck at the angel’s concern. He often wondered what he’d ever done that had made him deserving of the love and care of one so utterly perfect…

Well, it hardly mattered now. What mattered now was ensuring that he did everything he possibly could to  _ keep _ deserving it, starting with pulling off this night’s plan.

“It’ll be fine, angel,” Crowley insisted, carefully skirting the line between nonchalant and too eager. “I’ll put on an extra jumper. Come on, it’s a nice, clear evening. We’ll be able to see the stars.”

Aziraphale hummed, thoughtful, and Crowley watched carefully for any signs that the angel suspected anything was amiss. If he did, he definitely did not let on. “Alright, darling, you’ve twisted my arm. Let me grab our scarves and hats.”

A sparse few minutes later Crowley was far more bundled up than he would ever normally allow in order to keep his angel happy, slyly nudging said angel in the proper direction. As way of distraction he pointed out a few of the first stars lighting through the darkening sky, while linking his arm around Aziraphale’s. The angel beamed up at him with a smile like the rising of the sun, and off they walked through the pleasantly crinkling snow. 

The walk itself was wonderful, if Crowley was being completely honest. The weather was much milder than it had been, the sky clear, the wind barely a breath tickling their faces. The moon shone down on them like a golden guide as the stars gradually awakened from their daytime slumbers. And Aziraphale sighed and smiled like a lovestruck teenager, leaning gratefully against Crowley’s arm and filling the demon with warmth. 

He would have been happy with just this, of that there was no doubt. But there was more awaiting not too far ahead, so Crowley discreetly reached in his jacket pocket and poked at his mobile, trusting it to send the right message to the right recipient. 

A little thrill of anticipation went through the demon’s body when Aziraphale first spotted the flicker of light off in the distance. His adorable little upturned nose crinkled and his head cocked to the side as he craned to see. 

“I wonder what’s happening up there?” the angel mused, almost to himself. 

Crowley had to count to five to keep himself from reacting too quickly. “Want to go take a look?” he murmured, feigning only mild interest. 

Aziraphale hummed and leaned his head to the other side, as though the minuscule change of angle would allow him an unimpeded view of the still-quite-far-off fire. He was silent for a few long moments, just long enough for Crowley to worry that, for once, the angel would actually manage to quell his natural sense of curiosity. But then, finally-

“Yes, let’s go a bit further, if that’s alright with you, darling?”

“Anything you want, angel.”

The closer they got the harder Crowley found it to keep from grinning like a damned fool and giving it all away. He kept sneaking little glances at Aziraphale from the corner of his eye as they walked, watching the look on the angel’s face transform from curiosity to confusion. It was a reasonable reaction, that confusion. After all, what Aziraphale was able to see as they made their approach, was a small staging area covered with people who were all standing still and quiet and shadowy, illuminated only by a drum-fire which had been lit a few feet away from a single wooden bench sat in the snow before them. 

“What in the world…?” Aziraphale muttered.

And that’s when the candles began to light up. 

They had timed it  _ perfectly _ , Crowley was quite pleased to see. Adam Young, natural-born ringleader, was front and center of the group, and his candle was the first to be lit. On either side of him, as well as on a bleacher behind him, the rest of the Them lit their candles, and from there the little balls of flame spread outward, until a group of at least fifty young people were grinning beneath their individual torches. 

Crowley and Aziraphale had reached the bench by this point, and there was no mistaking the look of quiet bewilderment on the angel’s face. He only seemed  _ more  _ flabbergasted when Warlock appeared - seemingly from nowhere - offering a toothy grin and a large, soft flannel blanket. 

“Oh?” Aziraphale said simply, apparently waiting for an explanation. 

By way of one, Crowley led his angel to sit on the bench with him. Warlock helped spread the blanket across their laps, winked at them, and rushed off to join his friends up on the stage. 

When Crowley’s hand-picked choir began to sing the first notes of ‘O Tannenbaum’ he finally allowed his grin to break free in conjunction with a soft gasp of pure joy from beside him. Aziraphale’s fingers found the demon’s wrist, clutching it tight, while his other hand rose to his mouth, hovering there in a posture of surprised delight. For the first few beautifully harmonized lines of the song the angel stared, eyes wide, at the humans on stage. Then his head snapped toward Crowley, and bless it all...there were  _ stars _ in his bloody beautiful eyes. 

“Crowley!” the angel gasped, breathlessly. “Did you organize this?”

The demon tried to shrug, to give an air of nonchalance, but he was certain the effect was ruined by the way he was failing to fight the grin off his face. 

“ _ Darling _ ,” Aziraphale uttered with audible adoration. “You  _ hate _ Christmas music!”

Crowley shrugged again and snorted a bit, his grin becoming something more coy. “Don’t  _ hate _ it, angel. Just don’t enjoy it  _ constantly _ . But a private concert for just me and my heartbreakingly handsome husband?  _ That _ I can definitely handle.”

There may have been tears in Aziraphale’s eyes, and it may have been  _ painfully _ adorable, but Crowley chose not to address it in favor of wrapping an arm around his angel and drawing him close. 

“Do you like it?” the demon asked, uncharacteristically confident about the answer. 

“I  _ love _ it,” the angel replied, sighing and snuggling happily against his husband. “Thank you, my love. This was incredibly sweet of you.”

Crowley wrinkled his nose in mock-distaste. “M’not sweet,” he grumbled. “Just like getting one up on you, is all.”

Aziraphale’s body shook as he fought to hide his laughter. “Of course, my love. Of course.”

Up on stage, the choir sang with gusto, and Adam Young caught Crowley’s gaze just in time to catch the demon’s conspiratorial wink. The boy winked right back, in no way attempting to hide the gesture from Aziraphale, who chuckled all the harder for it. 

_ Mission accomplished _ , thought Crowley, and smiled like the absolutely besotted fool he was.


	5. Day 5: Warm Blankets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Day 5, warm snuggles are on the menu, and perhaps something a little bit more...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

Demons, by their nature, were almost exclusively opposed to touch. It came, partially, from a complete and utter lack of trust in one another. Touch - any kind of touch at all - could easily be turned into violence, after all. And while most demons, by their nature,  _ enjoyed  _ violence, they scarcely desired to have it inflicted upon themselves. Therefore, touch of almost any kind was discouraged and avoided. 

One particular demon, however, broke that unwritten rule in spades. 

On this chilly December evening, Crowley had been sprawled on the living room sofa, scrolling through a truly astounding number of channels on their demonically tweaked television. He had no idea what he was in the mood for, until he happened upon one of the funnier holiday specials just beginning its opening credit roll. Then he stopped, tossed the remote aside...and pouted.

Aziraphale was on the other side of the room, standing beside a few of his bookshelves, flipping through an old book of poetry he’d acquired sometime in the eighteenth century. He seemed rather engrossed, turning the pages with careful, gentle fingers. 

Crowley pouted some more. 

He huffed. He wriggled. He sighed dramatically. 

He spied the tiny twitch of a smile in the corner of his angel’s mouth. 

Of course...the beautiful bastard was going to make him  _ ask _ for what he wanted, as usual. Finally, with a whine in his voice that was perhaps being played up a little more than was necessary, Crowley said, “ _ Annngelllll… _ ”

Aziraphale’s eyes didn’t look up from the poem he was currently open to, but that little smile twitched again. “Yes, darling?”

Crowley stuck his lower lip out, almost comically far. “I’m cold and lonely,” he groused, a bit of a whimper in his tone. 

_ Finally _ , the angel’s eyes shifted. He gazed sideways at the demon, and allowed the smile that had been threatening to properly spread across his lips. “And?” he prodded. 

Oh, the  _ bastard _ . Crowley couldn’t push out his lip any further, but he made his best attempt at turning snake eyes into puppy-dog eyes and spread his arms wide, both a request and an invitation. “C’mere. Please?”

With a little chuckle, Aziraphale delicately closed his book and returned it to the shelf. He made his way over to the sofa with a pleased smile on his face. “I think I have just the thing,” he suggested, and lifted a hand to snap his fingers. In his hand appeared a large, soft, fuzzy blanket in Aziraphale’s lovely personal tartan. He motioned for Crowley to scoot up, and plunked himself down on the sofa when the demon complied. Then he lifted an arm and gestured toward his darling husband. “Come here, love,” he purred. 

Crowley practically scrambled to do so, slithering across the sofa and climbing up his angel’s body. He wrapped himself around his husband in the way only a snake could possibly manage, arms wrapped around his soft belly, one leg thrown over his lap, head nestled beneath his chin. “Mmmmmm...comfy…” he hissed happily.

Aziraphale chuckled and turned his head to press a kiss to his demon’s head. “And now the final bit,” he said, and flicked his wrist. The tartan blanket fluttered out into the air before falling gently around the two celestial beings. A minor miracle had it tucking itself around them, snuggling them close, and another had the wonderfully soft material radiating a gentle, soothing warmth. 

“Is this better, my love?” the angel asked, grinning. 

Crowley hummed an affirmative. There was a soft rumbling in his chest as he ran his fingers up and down Aziraphale’s waistcoat, savoring the familiar texture. “Blanket’sss a nice touch,” he sighed. “Thanksss angel…”

Aziraphale giggled a little at the demon’s sibilant hiss, and they settled in to watch the film that Crowley had chosen. 

It was so wonderfully warm and comfortable that Crowley very nearly drifted off wrapped around his angel. He only came alive again when firm fingers began pushing through his hair, massaging his scalp. He couldn’t resist purring at the touch and leaned into it, chasing further stimulation. 

“You like that, my darling?” Aziraphale hummed, knowing full well what the answer was. 

“Nnnnggg…” was Crowley’s absolutely brilliant response. His angel was purposely melting his brain, but he wasn’t about to let the bastard win. 

(What, precisely, he would be ‘winning’, was immaterial.)

Beneath the blanket, Crowley sneakily lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. He grinned like a fool at his angel’s yelp of surprise when all of their clothes vanished at once, banished to their bedroom. They were both left bare, with nothing but each other and the miraculously warmed blanket against their skin. 

“You little minx,” Aziraphale scolded, though his pink cheeks were accompanied by a pleased smile. “Is this what you were after all along?”

Crowley’s response was to trail his long fingers down his angel’s body until he found what he was looking for. Aziraphale was already half-hard and let out a little gasp at the touch. “This is always what I’m after,” Crowley teased as his fingers moved cleverly. He shifted to press a bruising kiss against his angel’s throat. “Never get enough of you…”

Aziraphale groaned, eyes fluttering closed as he leaned his head back against the sofa. “Oh darling, I certainly hope not,” he sighed, working his hips against his lover’s touch. 

Before long Crowley was straddling his angel’s lap, little gasps and moans falling from each of them as he wrapped his lovely fingers around both of their erections, stroking slowly, dragging on the pleasure as they moved together in glorious tandem. 

The movie was long forgotten. 

Some time later the demon and the angel lay pressed together, the sofa having been kind enough to expand itself, and the lovely tartan blanket having followed them to their new resting place without ever falling from around Crowley’s shoulders. They were sleepy, and sated, and so perfectly warm despite their lack of clothing. Crowley couldn’t possibly imagine anything more perfect. 

“Would you like to head to bed, dearest?” Aziraphale asked eventually, voice quiet and unmistakably pleased. The tips of his fingers ran playfully back and forth across the demon’s lower back.

Crowley hummed, nuzzled his nose against Aziraphale’s collarbone, and sighed, a long, slow, contented sound. 

“Only if you keep touching me like that...and we bring this blanket.”

“I think that can be easily arranged, my love.”


	6. Day 6: Making Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale gets peckish for gingerbread, and Crowley goes a little overboard with the ingredients. Sweet shenanigans ensue!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

It began, innocently enough, when Aziraphale was flipping through an old cookbook and made an offhand remark about trying his luck with a gingerbread recipe. The angel had then asked, quite sweetly of course, whether Crowley would mind popping out to pick him up the required supplies. Crowley, as was his way, put up a token series of grumbles before being set upon by Aziraphale’s well-honed puppy-dog-eyes, and ultimately agreeing to make the grocery run. 

It was exacerbated when, upon reaching the bakery aisle of the local grocer, the demon realized that he had frankly no idea what ingredients were in gingerbread - beyond, presumably, ginger. And perhaps bread? No, no, surely that couldn’t be right. There was probably, what-? Sugar? Flour? But wait, what was it that made the gingerbread so brown? 

It was thrown into five-alarm levels of foolishness when, upon checking the internet on his mobile for the answers to his questions and finding  _ dozens  _ of other delicious-looking sweet recipes that his angel was sure to love, Crowley ultimately decided to take home a little bit of everything. 

Aziraphale was, rightfully, shocked when his demon arrived home with bags upon bags of baking supplies, including eight different kinds of chocolate chips, five different varieties of sugar, and more sprinkles than any one household should ever have on hand at a given time. Once the initial shock subsided, however, the angel met Crowley’s sheepish grin and couldn’t help bursting into jingling laughter. 

The gingerbread recipe was only the first. They made the dough together, alternating between checking the instructions in the cookbook and dumping in ingredients. When it came time to roll and cut, Aziraphale deftly split the available dough into two portions and handed one of them to Crowley. The angel pushed the roller over his dough with a firm, steady hand, while the demon made more of a violent smacking motion and glared at his dough until it was vaguely the proper thickness. Then Aziraphale produced a variety of cookie-cutters - including stars, Christmas trees, snowmen, angels, and one special one that looked similar to the angel, but had little horns poking up from its head - and they got to work piling their squishy shapes onto a series of baking sheets. 

While the gingerbread was in the oven with a timer set, they began perusing some of the other recipes they’d found - both in Aziraphale’s book and on Crowley’s mobile. They got to work immediately on a recipe for rum balls. Soon after came sugar drops, followed by snickerdoodles, and then shortbread, lemon-butter biscuits, and macarons. 

When almost every inch of the cottage’s kitchen was covered in freshly-baked sweets, the pair whipped up a batch of cream cheese frosting, dyed bowlfuls in a dozen different colors, and began decorating their gingerbread. 

Not so long a time ago, Crowley would have denied - under pain of death, if necessary - any future that saw him doing anything half so domestic as painting holiday biscuits in a range of colors with a goofy, amused smile on his face. Now, he wondered whether this position he found himself in was something he could blame on his angel’s influence, or whether he was going completely and utterly soft. 

He found - perhaps with some small surprise - that he really couldn’t give a damn one way or the other. 

It was with that thought in mind that the demon allowed a mischievous grin to split his face, and with a single rapid movement he dipped his finger into a bowl of baby blue frosting, lifted it, and painted a line across his angel’s cheek. 

The sound that Aziraphale made was halfway between a yelp and a snort. In a voice that was practically dripping with fondness, he exclaimed, “How very dare you, you sneaky serpent!”

Crowley laughed a full-throated laugh of playful impishness before swooping forward to wrap his arms around his angel and pull him close. With a little growl of hunger and a gleam in his eye, the demon flicked out his snake-like tongue and licked against his angel’s delectable flesh, gathering the frosting in a single swipe. “Mmmm…” he hummed, salaciously. “Delicious.”

The look Aziraphale gave him was dark and full of promise. “Oh, is that how it’s going to be?” he grumbled, and reached for a bowl of red frosting. 

The battle was intense and devastating. A series of minor miracles ensured that neither Aziraphale’s clothes, nor the lovely treats they’d spent most of the day baking, were damaged in any way, but everything else was game. The kitchen was filled with the cries of a war waged in mass quantities of sugar. Outside in the garden, Crowley’s plants listened curiously, shaking their leaves and craning their stems, wondering what in the world their owner was getting up to with his angel today. 

By the time the last morsel of frosting had been thoroughly wasted, the cupboards, floor, and refrigerator were so thoroughly spattered in bright colors that they may have been mistaken for some kind of modern art display. Crowley’s face was green on one side, orange on the other, and there was bright pink caked under the fingernails of his left hand. Aziraphale had that same pink running through his pale curls, and the fingers of both hands were a deep, vibrant red. Those fingers were currently curled into the hair at the nape of Crowley’s neck, tugging firmly. Crowley’s hands hovered, refusing to touch and risk staining his angel’s clothes, but wanting badly to feel his husband beneath his palms. 

“Well,” said the angel, a little breathless from their ‘fight’. “That was a thing,” he added with a sly grin. “We seem to be rather a mess now.”

“I’ve got a solution for that, angel,” Crowley purred, and leaned in for a soft, sweet, frosting-flavored kiss. When he pulled back there was once again mischief shining in his eyes. “Meet me in the tub in ten minutes?”

The way Aziraphale’s eyes glimmered suggested that it had been precisely what he was hoping the demon would say. 

“I’ll bring a plate of biscuits.” 


	7. Day 7: Lazy Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a day for snuggling up and staying in bed.  
> Of course...staying in bed often leads to other, less lazy endeavours...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

Lazy days were, in Crowley’s personal opinion, one of the best concepts that humans had ever come up with. He’d always been more than happy to lounge about in bed, wrapped in numerous blankets, sleeping or relaxing or simply indulging in a bit of sloth. He was a snake, after all. He was drawn to warmth, and comfort, and a sense of safety. 

Lazy days with a certain angel were, in Crowley’s personal opinion, absolute perfection. The angel didn’t go in for sloth all that often - despite being a sedentary creature, he was always doing  _ something _ , most often reading - so it was a real treat when Aziraphale forwent any desire to get up and seize the day in favor of wrapping his arms more snuggly around his demon. 

Crowley nuzzled into his angel’s soft chest with a sound not unlike the purr of a contented house cat. A soft rumbling met him as the angel fought to suppress his chuckling. 

“Are you comfortable, my darling?” Aziraphale asked from above. Crowley felt the angel shift just enough to bend his head down and place a kiss on the crown of his head. He made some vague attempt at an affirmative sound and nuzzled in even closer. 

“Ssssoft…” the demon mumbled against porcelain skin and pale, ticklish puffs of hair. “Warm… Mine…” He punctuated the last word with a slithery roll of his hips that made Aziraphale quite aware of his husband’s sleepy arousal. 

The angel sighed and smiled, and reached up to card his fingers through the demon’s hair, garnering a soft groan that vibrated from Crowley’s chest and through his own. “Mmm...yours,” Aziraphale agreed. He let his fingertips trail from that lovely red hair and along the back of the demon’s neck. For this touch he received a full-body shiver and another roll of those sinful hips. With a knowing twitch of angelic lips, he said, “And you are  _ mine _ ,” with just enough of a hint of possessive tone. 

It got precisely the reaction the angel had been hoping for. Crowley drew in a sharp breath and pulled back just far enough to look up at his angel with golden eyes blown wide with lust. “ _ Yourssss _ ,” he hissed when he seemed capable of thought. Then, with something like  _ need _ in his tone, he added, “However and whenever you want, angel…”

“Is that so?” Aziraphale prodded, fingers tracing the delicate line of the demon’s spine toward his delicious little arse. 

“Yessss,” Crowley answered without hesitation, a breathless word that may have been affirmation or encouragement or both. His back arched at his angel’s touch, his own hands clinging at his husband’s body, his hips beginning to roll with purpose. 

Aziraphale’s fingers found the waistband of his demon’s pants and ducked beneath it, running teasingly down the cleft of his arse. His heart raced at the way Crowley bucked and whined, seeking the touch, wordlessly beginning him to get on with it. And who was he to deny such a request from the most delectable creature in the universe?

With a single snap of angelic fingers, both husbands were bare beneath their sheets, and those same fingers were pressing, warm and wet, against a waiting, willing ring of muscle. The first finger made the demon moan and wriggle. The second made him squirm and squeak. The third had him writhing, whimpering, hips working back and forth, seeking friction from both sides. When he was getting quite worked up indeed, Aziraphale curled his fingers and pressed down to capture Crowley’s cry with lips pressed fiercely together. 

Ohhhh, he was delicious like this, Aziraphale’s demon, practically vibrating with need, babbling nonsense as he drew his breaths faster and faster. 

With one swift, graceful movement, Aziraphale had Crowley on his back, both wrists captured in one hand above the demon’s head, teeth grazing at his lover’s throat. “The things you do to me, darling,” he growled, fierce and hungry. “The way you make me burn inside… You make me want to devour you, body and soul. Would you like that, my gorgeous thing?”

Crowley keened at the praise, leaning back and baring his throat, making not one single attempt to free his arms from his angel’s firm grasp. “ _ Yessss _ ....” he gasped, hips rolling desperately now. “Yessss, pleasssse, angel. Want you, need you, take me, have me,  _ fuck _ me, pleasssse!”

No further time was wasted. With his free hand Aziraphale hiked one of Crowley’s legs up over his shoulder, lined himself up, and drove forward in a single languid thrust. The demon arched and groaned, his fingers flexing and stretching beneath the angel’s grasp. 

For a long time there were no words. Aziraphale drew back and pressed forward in long, leisurely motions, canting his hips to hit Crowley’s prostate over and over, drawing out the demon’s pleasure for as long as he could possibly manage. He was well rewarded with a glorious concert of sounds; panting, gasping, crying, keening. The sharp planes of Crowley’s chest flushed a deep, delicious red, his long legs quivered, and beads of sweat glimmered across his brow and down the hollow of his throat. 

“Fucking beautiful,” Aziraphale growled, and decided his darling was more than ready for the grand finale. 

He squeezed around the demon’s wrists - holding him tight the way he knew Crowley liked - and wrapped his free hand around his husband’s desperate, red cock. He matched the movement of his hand to the rhythm of his hips, which became hard and fast and just the right side of brutal, pulling resounding, glorious sobs of pleasure from Crowley’s lips. 

The demon’s body clenched tight as his orgasm hit him with relentless force, coming in waves that had him crying out in a series of screams that sounded suspiciously like Aziraphale’s name. The angel’s pleasure struck only a few moments later, melting his body into a shaking pool of pleasure as he slammed into his husband one final time and came deep inside him. 

There was panting and gasping and little sounds of well-won exhaustion. Aziraphale’s lips found Crowley’s. They moved against one with slow, sweet need. Eventually, once moving had once again became a viable possibility, they found themselves back on their sides, slotted together in the way they’d begun. Crowley’s legs wrapped themselves around Aziraphale’s body, and Aziraphale placed soft, soothing kisses on the red marks he’d left on his husband’s wrists.

The demon was smiling; a besotted, wrung out, fatigued kind of smile. The sight of it made the angel’s heart soar. 

“Shall we stay in bed and have a lazy day, my love?” he asked as his darling’s eyelids began to flutter. 

“Mmmm…” the demon agreed, and as his eyes began to fall closed he smiled and added, “‘S long as it’s not too lazy for more of that later.”


	8. Day 8: Holiday Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley runs off to make some mischief while Aziraphale shops, and winds up finding something else that's much more worthwhile of celestial attention...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This totally wasn't what I was intending to write for this prompt....and it turned out way longer than I'd intended as well....but sometimes the words take over, and soooooo, this is what we've got. I hope you enjoy it. :)
> 
> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

Crowley was  _ not _ a fan of holiday shopping. 

It wasn’t the fact that he was a celestial being who could finger-snap anything he wanted into existence. It wasn’t the fact that they were shopping in London, in shops that were crowded to bursting and far too loud. It wasn’t that he had any particular disagreement with the concept of commercialism. It wasn’t even the non-stop loop of ten or so specific Christmas songs that  _ every single store _ seemed to be playing at the same time. 

No, Crowley wasn’t a fan of shopping in general - and holiday shopping specifically - because of the  _ ignorance _ . 

As a demon, he supposed that he should be all for the type of ignorance that ran rampant through retail establishments at this time of year. He did, after all, still enjoy inflicting all manner of mischief and everyday frustrations upon humanity; it was in his blood.  _ Ignorance _ however, had always been something that rankled him to no end.  _ Ignorance  _ was to blame for parents who let their sticky-fingered children touch Aziraphale’s precious books.  _ Ignorance _ explained people who stood directly in the angel’s way when he was attempting to browse an aisle.  _ Ignorance _ was the wheelhouse of senseless sale-seekers who all but  _ shoved _ the angel out of the way in order to grab the last of something from a display. 

Okay, so perhaps ignorance itself wasn’t the key figure in Crowley’s annoyance. 

He must have been starting to turn a little red about the ears, because when Aziraphale turned to him to ask his opinion on a shawl for Madam Tracy, the angel paused, blinked, and lowered the flamboyant fabric. “Are you quite alright, dearest?” he inquired. 

Crowley took a deep breath and let it out all in one giant huff while simultaneously shoving his fingers in the tiny pockets of his trousers hard enough to rip the inner hems. “ _ Fine _ ,” he grumbled, but almost immediately sniffed and added, “Jus’ don’t know how you don’t go mad. All these humans being rude little cun-”

“That’s quite enough!” Aziraphale snapped quickly. He wasn’t angry, though. He was actually smiling at the demon. “I know you find it somewhat...infuriating, my dear.” Then his eyes got that little sparkle in them; the one that made Crowley’s heart race. “I’m fine on my own for a while,” the angel contemplated aloud, smirking. “Why don’t you have a bit of a wander, and perhaps...make a little mischief? Only for the truly deserving, of course.”

Crowley’s scowl slowly morphed into a genuine grin. “Naughty angel,” he purred, “encouraging a demon to be  _ bad _ .” 

Aziraphale’s response was a wink and a smile and a little ‘shoo’ motion with his hand. 

Crowley took off, feeling suddenly less like an unwilling participant and more like a kid in a candy shop. 

For the following two hours, the demon had a genuine blast terrorizing the worst of the ‘Ignorance Kings and Queens’ he found. A man who shoved his cart past a little old lady, stealing the cashier she had been heading for, found his debit card and all of his credit cards refusing payment. A woman who sneakily snatched a hot-ticket item out of someone else’s cart found that  _ her  _ cart, and all the items therein, had vanished by the time she turned back around. A particularly nasty pair of grown adults who were screaming at a teenage employee for failing to magically find them an out-of-stock item, were escorted from the store by a rather large security guard when several unpaid items spilled out from underneath both of their jackets. 

Crowley was, without a doubt, deep in his element and grinning like a lunatic, when he rounded an aisle and stopped short, lips pulling down into a frown. 

The girl was maybe thirteen or fourteen. Her clothes were very plain and screamed of hand-me-downs. Over top of her long brown hair she wore a hand-knit beanie that had seen better days. She was leaning against two adjoining shelves in the fair corner of the store, staring at a display of baby cribs and highchairs. Her back was turned to Crowley, but he could see that her shoulders were shaking, and as he watched she lifted a hand to her face, swiped it several times against her eyes, and sniffed loudly. 

“Alright there?”

The girl nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice, having not heard his demonically silent approach. There were tears running down her face, which she desperately tried once again to swipe away with her sleeve, but it really only served to spread them around. “Sorry,” she muttered, pivoting as though to make a dash for it. 

Crowley stepped back in front of her and did his very best to conjure Aziraphale’s calming warmth. “Hey, ‘s no problem,” he insisted, keeping his voice low and gentle. “You wanna talk ‘bout it?”

The girl - she was rather pretty, he thought, despite the teary mess she’d made of herself - considered him suspiciously for what felt like a long time. He couldn’t blame her. Demon, after all. He probably radiated ill-intent. But, to his surprise, she eventually heaved a deep sigh and let herself fall back against the shelf she’d originally been leaning on. She seemed far too tired for her young age. 

“It just kinda hit me all at once, I guess,” she said in a small voice. “I know it’s not really for me to worry about these things, but I can’t help it, you know?”

Crowley nodded, as though he understood, and prompted: “Worry about what things?”

It was as though the flood gates had opened, as though the girl had been storing everything deep inside her, letting it all build and build until there was nowhere left for it all to go. She told him about how her father had recently lost his job, how their family didn’t have much in the way of savings because it hadn’t been that great of a job to begin with. She told him about how she’d overheard her younger brother and sister as they wrote a joint letter to Santa, asking that instead of toys this year, that he would please bring their daddy some work. She told him about how her mother had confided in her that she was two months pregnant with the family’s fourth child, and that she didn’t know how she was going to tell her husband, or how they were going to be able to pull of any kind of Christmas knowing that they were going to need the money later for things like diapers. 

Crowley stood and listened while the girl poured her heart out. He listened while she lamented that there was nothing she could do to help her family, and he listened when she began to run dry, the words coming in little gasps and sobs. He listened until she had nothing left. 

Then he stepped forward, producing a bright red handkerchief, and handed it to her. She accepted it with a loud sniffle and a weak ‘thanks’ and began dabbing at her eyes. 

“Listen,” Crowley said, feeling equal parts warm, awkward, and determined. He shoved his hand in the tiny back pocket of his trousers and pulled out a business card that hadn’t been there until that moment. “I happen to be very good friends with the people who run the Ritz. You know, the hotel and restaurant?”

The girl nodded, frowning, apparently confused by the purpose of this announcement. 

“Well...here then,” the demon muttered, and shoved the business card - which had the contact information for the managers of both the hotel and the restaurant printed on it - into the girl’s hands. “Go home and give that to your father. They’ll find a place for him, I guarantee it.”

The girl blinked down at the card, then at Crowley, then back down at the card before settling on the demon with something like disbelief in her eyes. “Are...are you serious?” she asked. 

Crowley tried very hard not to snarl in annoyance. Instead he forced a grin and did what he could to look more friendly than he really was. “Scout’s honor,” he insisted, though he had no idea what that was really supposed to mean. “They’ve got a few different positions open. Tell your father to tell ‘em that Anthony Crowley sent him. I promise you, he’ll have a good, secure job by the end of the day.”

The girl’s eyes were growing wet again, but this time there was a smile spreading across her face that she didn’t seem to be able to stop. Without a hint of warning she surged forward, wrapping both her arms around the demon for a few heartstopping moments before pulling back again, face red with embarrassment, but still grinning. “T-thank you so much, mister Crowley!” she cried. And she looked like she was going to say so much more, but Crowley didn’t know whether he could handle it, so he waved his fingers in the direction of the exit. 

“Go on quickly, now,” he told her. “Best get him on it as fast as possible before anyone else applies.” 

They wouldn’t. The available positions had only just sprung into existence, after all. 

But the girl nodded enthusiastically, thanked him again three times, and took off down the aisle, clinging to both the handkerchief and the business card as though they were made of pure gold. At the end of the aisle, just before she disappeared, she whirled around and called back, “Merry Christmas mister Crowley!”

The demon snorted, and his lip twitched. “Merry Christmas, kid,” he muttered under his breath. 

When he found Aziraphale again, browsing an aisle full of toys that he knew absolutely nothing about, the demon immediately swooped in to wrap his arms around him and press his nose into those soft white curls. The angel hummed, pleased, and placed his own hand over one of Crowley’s. 

“Feeling better now, darling?” the angel asked in an all-too-knowing kind of tone. 

“Much better,” the demon mumbled into those fluffy curls. 

And it was the truth. 


	9. Day 9: Tree Trimming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While disagreeing about how to go about the tree trimming, Aziraphale teaches Crowley a lesson about doing things 'the human way'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I regret nothing. XD
> 
> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

Crowley couldn’t understand why Aziraphale felt the need to put up their Christmas tree the human way. The angel could literally snap his fingers and not only produce a tree from nothing, but also have it lit and decorated perfectly, exactly the way he wanted it. Instead, Aziraphale dragged his demonic husband out to an actual Christmas tree lot, flashed one of those smiles that Crowley was absolutely helpless to resist, and had the demon pick out the best, healthiest, and most vibrant of the available specimens. Not only that, but they had to transport it home manually, actually  _ carry  _ it into the house and bully it into its stand by hand, and now they were actually decorating it piece by piece while surrounded by boxes of what, to Crowley, mostly looked like a shiny mess. 

“It’s  _ fun _ , my dear!” Aziraphale was insisting as rummaged through a box to pull out several lengths of golden tinsel. “Doing things the human way is so rewarding, and makes it that much more special!”

Golden eyes glared at the angel from the sofa, where Crowley was fighting a losing battle with a string of lights that had somehow managed to tie itself into a hundred or more knots while sitting in storage. “Doing things the human way is  _ slow _ and  _ boring _ , angel,” he groused as his long fingers picked through the numerous tangles. “It’s a waste of time for beings like us.”

Aziraphale had popped around the back of the tree as he twirled his garland around it, but he peeked his head out in order to settle the demon with a raised eyebrow and a sly grin. “Oh, is that so?” he prodded. “So you’re saying that  _ all  _ human methods are tedious and tiresome?”

Had Crowley been less annoyed and more attentive in that moment, he may have guessed where this was going. Instead, he growled angrily at the lights, barely resisting the urge to use a miracle to detangle them, and grumbled back a, “ _ Pointless _ waste of time.”

There was a soft hum from Aziraphale, and for a few moments they both were quiet as they set about their respective jobs. Then…

“Crowley.  _ Come here _ .”

At first the demon didn’t look up, but his body did freeze in place as his eyes went wide and his throat went dry. Aziraphale had a great number of ‘tones’ that went a long way to expressing his individual moods, and the one he had used just now was one Crowley had only become intimately familiar with in the past year that they’d been living together. It was a tone that the angel had spent a great deal of time perfecting, and one that made Crowley hard the moment he heard it. 

No, at first he didn’t look up, but it was only a momentary hesitation, because when Aziraphale used  _ that  _ tone, Crowley  _ obeyed _ . 

He scrambled to his feet and stumbled to where his angel was waiting near the tree. “Yes, angel?” he said, feeling breathless. 

The smirk on Aziraphale’s face was midway between pleased and mischievous. His blue eyes were shining. “Take off your shirt for me, darling.”

Crowley scrambled to comply, ripping the black Henley up over his head and tossing it clear across the room to stand bare-chested before his hungry-eyed husband. Aziraphale’s smirk grew wider. He lifted a hand to trail the tips of his fingers up the demon’s flat, lithe stomach, up to his collarbone, across and back down to playfully flick at one round, pink nipple. 

“Turn around for me, if you please,” the angel purred. “Hands behind your back.”

Crowley nearly gave himself whiplash in his rush to comply. He drew in a sharp breath and felt heat flush to his chest and face as the angel’s fingers began to work something around his wrists. He wanted to turn and look, but hadn’t been given permission, so instead he closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensations. There was a stiff, rope-like quality, but also little pokey bits at random intervals and-

Oh sweet lord, Aziraphale was tying up his hands with another set of tree lights. 

Once he was bound, the angel strolled to his side and leaned in close to his ear so that Crowley could feel the sweet heat of his breath. “Let’s get you down to the floor now, my love,” he hissed, sending shivers all up and down Crowley’s body. The demon complied, going to his knees first, and was grateful for the angel’s hand on the back of his neck that helped him lean back without use of his hands. 

“Now,” Aziraphale hummed, his voice a lovely rumble. “Let’s get rid of these.” And he knelt down, straddling Crowley’s legs, in order to unbutton his trousers and work them and the pants beneath past his hips, down his legs, and off. 

Crowley was more than a little embarrassed by how hard and leaking he already was, but Aziraphale seemed pleased by the sight, his darkened eyes roaming all over the demon’s long body. 

“So very lovely,” the angel praised, licking his lips. The words and the action both served to make Crowley squirm with pleasure, his cock twitching against his stomach. “Now...let’s see how long we can draw this out for you, hmm?”

Crowley keened at the prospect. He pulled at his bonds, not trying to seriously get free, but enjoying the feeling of the lights biting at his wrists. “W-what’re you gonna do, angel?” he whimpered as his hips twitched. 

“Oh darling,” said the angel, producing a length of tinsel and letting the end drag against the demon’s nipples. “So, so much…”

It was impossible to tell how much time passed. It was all a haze as Aziraphale set forth to tease and torment Crowley’s body into oblivion. He traced every inch of the demon’s shivering body with the soft, cool tinsel. Then he repeated it all with the soft, ticklish white fur from a Santa hat. When the ridiculously aroused demon seemed incapable of keeping still, the angel flipped him onto his stomach and used the free end of the lights around his wrists to bind his ankles as well, effectively hogtying him. Then he spread the demon’s knees, ducked beneath the lights and between those lovely legs, and-

Crowley moaned wantonly as Aziraphale’s tongue went to work and immediately began shouting, “Green! Green! Green!” because he knew this was the point at which his angel usually asked for his color and he didn’t want him to stop for even a second. Aziraphale chuckled against his flesh, sending lovely vibrations that only made the demon moan louder. 

The tongue was eventually joined by a finger, which eventually became two, and then three, all while Crowley groaned and whimpered, and babbled absolute nonsense into the rug beneath his face. It was  _ so  _ good, so very fucking good, and the demon could feel the pressure building, building, driving him absolutely mad-

Then, suddenly, all sensations were gone. Crowley let out a horrid whine and tried to flop to the side, to see what was happening while simultaneously grinding his hips into the floor in search of friction. “A-angel?” he whimpered, desperate and confused. 

But that soft, hungry voice came back to him almost immediately. “Here, my love,” it said. “I just had to grab something.” There was a click, and a squeeze, and a glorious, wet sound accompanied by a soft groan from the angel. 

Then, all at once, Crowley’s legs were free, he was on his back once more with his knees folded up to his chest, and Aziraphale was atop him, sheathing himself in one gentle, but firm, thrust that struck the demon in just the right spot. 

Crowley let out an intense sob of ecstasy as Aziraphale set a punishing pace, pumping in and out of him with intention, aiming for his prostate with every thrust. Profanities were shouted, his back was arched beyond the limits of human capability, and he finally came with shocking force, his orgasm hitting him like a series of waves crashing upon a rocky shore. Half a dozen more thrusts into his quaking, oversensitive body, and he felt his angel pulsing into him, hot and fierce and fucking  _ perfect _ . 

For a time, Crowley was a babbling mess, unable to put two words together or force his eyes to open, but when he did manage he found that he’d been wrapped in a warm, soft blanket, cradled in his angel’s arms, and that said angel was gazing at him with a loving intensity that made him feel hot and tingly all over. 

“Now,” Aziraphale said, his smirk coming back in full force. “Was  _ that  _ a pointless waste of time, my dearheart?”

Crowley snorted, bit his lip, and buried his face into Aziraphale’s shoulder in an attempt to hide the red of his face. 

“ _ Fine _ , angel,” he mumbled against the soft texture of Aziraphale’s shirt. “I’ll help you do the tree  _ the human way _ .”

“Jolly good, my love.”


	10. Day 10: Scarves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale has been locked up in his library for hours, and it's driving Crowley absolutely mad. What in the world is he doing in there?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note! The scarves described in this chapter are as designed by the lovely Oniria, who has been drawing daily illustrations of each of these Ineffable Holiday fics. If you haven't been checking those out, head on over to @oniria.creation on Instagram, or @Oniria_Creation on Twitter, and give them a follow, because the illustrations have been AMAZING! <3 <3 <3 (And FYI, yes, I'll be linking them here to the fics when I manage to find two seconds to myself that isn't filled with writing...lol)
> 
> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

Aziraphale was up to something. 

Crowley hadn’t the foggiest what that something could be, but it wasn’t difficult to ascertain that something was up. The angel had, after all, been locked in the spare room (which was, ostensibly, a library...which just happened to expand out to most of the rest of the cottage) for hours now. Of course, Crowley could have snapped his fingers and found himself in the room at any moment, but the very fact that Aziraphale had locked the door in the first place obviously meant that there was something he was hiding, something that he did not want Crowley to know about, at least not yet. 

So Crowley waited...and waited...and waited, getting jitterier with each passing minute. He was not  _ incapable _ of being patient; he simply wasn’t a fan of it. And while he was certain that whatever his angel was up to was far from anything he should be concerned about, it was rather difficult for the demon to avoid old habits of anxious distress. 

Two hours in he knocked gently on the door and called out, asking whether Aziraphale would like some tea. The cheerful response of, “No thank you, darling!” made the demon frown, as he couldn’t honestly recall the angel ever turning down an offer of tea. 

Three hours in he knocked again and asked whether Aziraphale might be up to going out for a spot of lunch. The angel’s response came back just slightly less cheerful than previously: “Not just at the moment, dearest. Perhaps a bit later.” Crowley narrowed his eyes at the door,  _ certain _ he’d never heard the angel turn down  _ food _ .

He skipped the fourth hour, considering that perhaps he might not want to get the angel frustrated with him, but by the fifth hour he was practically vibrating with his own frustration, desperate to know what was happening in that damned room. He had to physically restrain himself from pounding on the door with his full fist, and he could feel his jaw tensing as he choked out something about going for a walk. Aziraphale’s response was a simple, “Watch how you go,” in a tone that was clearly tipping the scales into annoyance. 

Crowley glared at the locked door. Then he whirled on his heel, stomped through the house, and snatched up his coat with a growl on his lips. He reached in the hallway closet for his winter gear, but only found the hat and mitts, and was too worked up to be bothered searching for wherever the scarf had gotten to. He left the cottage with a vicious slam of the door, and immediately regretted it with a cringe. 

He didn’t go for a walk. Nor did he pull the keys from his pocket and hop in the Bentley. Instead he flopped down on one of the chairs on the porch and curled in upon himself with a huff of smoke-like breath. 

A few long moments of silence went by as the shivering demon stared blankly out into the countryside, but it wasn’t much time at all before the cottage door creaked open slowly and a fluffy blond head poked through. 

Aziraphale’s voice was soft and wary. “Are...are you alright, love?”

_ Love _ …

Crowley took a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly, staring down at his arms across his knees to avoid having to look at the angel. “M’fine,” he murmured. “Jus’ bein’ stupid.”

He could practically  _ hear _ Aziraphale frown. 

There was a bit of shuffling, and then the angel stepped outside, sliding his arms into his coat and gingerly shutting the door behind him. He sat in the chair next to Crowley and, after a moment, leaned forward so that he was looking up into the other’s face. “Are you upset that I’ve been, er...sequestered away all day?”

Crowley sniffed. He couldn’t stop himself from glancing toward the angel, but immediately fought his gaze back to his own arms again. “Told y’ it’s stupid,” he mumbled. 

Aziraphale watched him carefully for what seemed like a very long time before seemingly coming to a conclusion. “Does it frighten you when I keep secrets, darling?”

Crowley twitched and cringed before he could stop himself. “S’ not…” he began before stopping to scratch at the back of his neck and start over. “S’ not like I don’t trust you,” he sighed. “Just...just reminds me of times...before.”

Aziraphale made a small, wounded kind of sound, but before Crowley could even address it he found himself yelping as he was swept up into the angel’s arms and held bone-crushingly tight. Warm hands rubbed up and down his back and soft lips pressed kisses just below his ear, and he couldn’t help but melt into it, his body drawn to the touch like a magnet. “Oh my love,” the angel breathed. “What I wouldn’t give to be able to take back every time I ever pushed you away or made you feel as though you were any less than my everything.” 

Crowley felt a few tears attempting to spill from his eyes and valiantly fought them off. “I know, angel,” he insisted, though there was a bit of a hitch to his voice. “All’s important is having you here now.”

Aziraphale squeezed him again, kissed him again, whispered little apologies against his skin, and then drew back to meet his gaze with one that was so full of love it made the demon’s chest ache. “Would you like to see what I was doing in there, dearest?” the angel asked. “It...it was meant to be a Christmas present, but I’m afraid it isn’t going all that well anyway, so I may as well show you now.”

He was already being dragged through the front door and down the hallway by the time the angel’s words caught up with Crowley.  _ A Christmas present? _

They walked through the open library-room door, and the first thing the demon saw was his scarf - the one he hadn’t found in the closet - laying on the little table at the center of the room. It was, technically, Aziraphale’s scarf - a lovely, warm one printed with the angel’s personal blue-and-beige tartan pattern - but it had been Crowley’s for some time now. Aziraphale had traded it for the black-and-red one the demon had found, thinking it would be lovely for each of them to wear the other’s colors. Crowley had played at being scandalized at the time, but truly loved the idea, especially as he understood the significance of being wrapped in his angel’s personal tartan. 

What was the scarf doing in here? And that was...oh, Aziraphale’s red-and-black version was right next to it. Then wait, what was that awful monstrosity bunched up in the middle of the tab-

“Oh,” Crowley said quietly. 

Aziraphale smiled a little nervously as he approached the table and lifted the bundle of wool to show the demon. “It...it didn’t seem as though it would be so hard, knitting,” he laughed, his tone self-deprecating. “But I suppose I just don’t have the talent for it.”

Crowley stepped forward and lifted a hand to examine the absolute mess that Aziraphale was holding. It was crooked and misshapen, the lines didn’t match up, and there were spots where the wool was sticking up as though the loops hadn’t been pulled tight enough, but upon closer examination it was definitely  _ meant _ to be a scarf. A scarf with a tartan pattern of interwoven beige, blue, red, and black…

“I thought…” said Aziraphale, voice quiet. “I thought that it might be nice to combine our colors because, well...you know…” His smile was adorably embarrassed, his eyes bright with adoration. 

Crowley didn’t know what to say. So he didn’t. He surged forward and pressed the angel’s lips to his own, one hand working around to slide up through soft blond curls, the other clinging to the misfit scarf as it was pressed between their bodies. “Thank you…” he whispered against Aziraphale’s lips as he drew back. “It’s...this is… Thank you. And I’m sorry for being...well, me.”

Aziraphale’s hands found his own, clutching at his fingers and the absolute mess of a scarf. “Don’t ever be sorry for being you, my love,” he scolded gently. “If you weren’t you, I wouldn’t love you half as much.”

Crowley allowed a little huff of laughter at that. 

“I love you too, angel…” he sighed happily. Then a mischievous - but absolutely besotted - grin began to spread across his face. He lifted the deformed scarf up between them. “Can I help you try to figure out what went wrong?”

A laugh, soft and tinkling and joyous. “Of course, love. Of course.”


	11. Day 11: Walk in the Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a lovely walk...during which Aziraphale indulges in Crowley's praise kink...😁

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Rather late on this one, but I had Christmas stuff going on all day so I'm sure you'll forgive me. 😘
> 
> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

It couldn’t have been, in Aziraphale’s opinion, a more perfect day for a walk in Saint James Park. 

He and Crowley had spent the morning in London, picking up a few things, running a few errands, and visiting the bookshop to ensure the sneaky miracles they’d performed to keep it safe while they were away were still holding strong. With all they’d needed done accomplished, the celestial pair had thought a walk through the park in which they had spent so much time over the years would be a lovely way to complete the day. 

And truly, if Aziraphale hadn’t known better, he would have thought that a certain young Antichrist had been messing with reality in order to establish the most perfect possible weather for the season. 

“It’s so lovely,” the angel sighed with a smile as the fat, fluffy white flakes fell all around them. 

“S’ cold,” Crowley grumbled back, but there was a sneaky smile on his face and the hand that was holding Aziraphale’s gave a little squeeze. 

The angel hummed as they walked, bright blue eyes wandering the scenes around them. Other couples - both young and old - strolling through the falling snow. Children rolling a base for a snowman, making snow angels, and tossing snowballs at one another. A group of musicians huddled together near a drum fire, playing holiday classics. Stubborn ducks waddling along the water, squawking at passersby for a treat. 

And beside him, holding his hand and pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, was his lovely demon, his husband, his very best friend. Red waves tumbling out from beneath his beanie, cascading around his sharp shoulders. Long, lean body bundled adorably in winter clothing, in direct opposition to skin-tight black trousers. Black glasses perched on the tip of his nose, cheekily allowing the world a glimpse of molten gold serpentine eyes. 

Those eyes flicked in Aziraphale’s direction and a sweet smile appeared on his lips, making the angel’s chest flutter.

"Do you know, darling-" he said, feeling a little breathless, "-I believe you may truly be the most devastatingly beautiful of all Her creations."

The following few seconds were spent righting themselves, as Crowley had somehow managed to trip over his own feet and nearly sent them both sprawling into the snow. 

"W-where did that come from so suddenly, angel?" the demon stammered, flushing a bright, alluring pink. 

Aziraphale couldn't help but grin at the sight. He gave Crowley's hand a squeeze and fluttered his eyelashes, knowing full well how it affected the demon. "Am I not allowed to appreciate my husband's unsurpassed beauty?" he asked, the picture of innocence. 

Crowley, as expected, flushed an even brighter shade and lifted his free hand to scratch at the back of his neck. "S' just, uh-" he murmured, well and truly flustered, "Y' don't usually- You know...uh, in public…"

Aziraphale made a show of looking around them in all directions, noting that the nearest humans were nowhere near close enough to hear their conversation. "I hardly think that it's an issue, dearest," the angel said, perhaps a little smugly. "But whyever should it matter if someone overhears me professing my undying adoration?"

This time Crowley ducked his head, curling in toward his angel with a whimper, as though attempting to hide. "S' not- I mean-" He bumbled over his words in an absolutely adorable way that had Aziraphale grinning unabashedly. "I just- Ffffff…. _Angel_ ...you know what it does to me when you... _ngk!_ "

Aziraphale had turned fully and pulled the demon against him, embracing him in a way that would surely appear quite innocent to any onlookers. In reality, however, the soft press of bodies was serving a dual purpose: to allow the angel to inconspicuously push himself against the demon's rather significant arousal, and to shield said arousal from the surrounding humans. 

"Mmmm...I _do_ know, darling," Aziraphale teased, voice a bit deeper than it had been a moment ago. "And I do so enjoy it." He leaned in closer, lifting a hand to the back of his husband's head and tilting his own in order to breathe directly against the snake tattoo above his ear. "I love to watch you fall apart for me, my love. I love to watch you shake and shudder, and _whine_ for me, darling...because you are _gorgeous_ , and you are clever, and you are far sweeter than you'll ever allow me to say, and you are _mine_ …"

A shudder, like a wave breaking across the surface of the sea, rocked through Crowley's body. His hands found the waist of Aziraphale’s coat and fisted there, holding on for dear life. "Nnnggg... _angel…!_ " he whimpered, and Aziraphale could hear the request in the words, the way his demon was quietly _begging_. 

The angel pressed his fingers up beneath his lover's cap in order to wrap them up in that sinful red hair he so adored. "Shhhh, dearest, I know," he purred, and pressed a sweet kiss to Crowley's jaw. "Shall we go back to the bookshop for the night, my love? I believe that we shall find a rather lovely bed waiting for us in the flat where I can lavish praises upon you for as long as I wish…"

" _Please-_ " was the demon's breathy, desperate reply. 

And Aziraphale nipped at his husband's ear with a truly pleased grin on his lips. 

"Your wish is my command, my beauty."


	12. Day 12: Candles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale tries something new, because he always enjoys finding things that his beloved thoroughly enjoys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops! I'm a day off! :O  
> This weekend was a bit of a THING, with the two major distractions being my husbands birthday (and the resulting hangover) and my father landing in the hospital (don't worry; he got some emergency surgery and is recovering well now!), thus falling behind a bit. But don't worry! I'll catch up, even if it takes a day or two. ^_^ Thank you for your understanding and your continued support! <3
> 
> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

The world was still quite dark when Crowley stirred.

It was unusual for the demon to wake before his angel - even more unusual than it was for said angel to sleep in the first place - but after so many nights spent snuggled down in their own bed, in their own cottage, in the warmth and safety and love that they had infused that place with, it was likely that the simple change of setting had thrown Crowley off somewhat. 

He lay in the bed in the flat above the bookshop, nestled up with his back against Aziraphale’s chest and the angel’s arms wrapped protectively around him. He could see that the moon was still in the sky, but it had lowered considerably, so morning was definitely on its way.

He lay there and smiled to himself, recalling the previous night’s events. Who would have thought, less than two years ago, that an angel of the Lord would have such an...appetite. That is to say, Aziraphale had always been a hedonist - of this there was no doubt - but even after all the times Crowley had watched the angel devour his food with all the relish and gusto of a particularly expressive erotic actor, the demon could never have fathomed that his beautiful angel was so thoroughly  _ insatiable _ . 

It was, not to put too fine a point on it,  _ absolutely fucking amazing _ .

Crowley wouldn’t have it any other way. He would happily adjust his own desires and expectations if that was what his angel needed him to do, but he was definitely more than ecstatic that such a thing had never been an issue between them. 

The demon trailed his fingers along the soft, bare arm wrapped around his middle, tickling at the little snow white hairs that ran up and down the lovely flesh. He did so adore his angel’s skin. So smooth and pure, like porcelain. Crowley could observe the expanses of it for hours without ever becoming bored. In fact-

He lifted his hand and, being careful not to make too loud of a noise, snapped his fingers. A grouping of three dark red pillar candles burned to life on the little table beside the bed, giving Crowley a bit of light to work with. Sure, he had excellent nighttime vision, but there was nothing quite like exploring Aziraphale’s beautiful skin against the soft glow of a flickering flame. 

The demon was left to his devices for quite some time. He trailed the tips of his fingers along every square inch of Aziraphale that he could reach without disturbing the angel or their sleepy embrace. Eventually, however, the angel did stir, and the soft hum of pleasure let Crowley know that he was at least mostly awake. 

“Mapping my body, darling?” Aziraphale murmured, leaning in to take a deep breath against the flyaway strands of Crowley’s hair on their pillows. 

“Mmmhmm…” the demon responded, and lifted his angel’s hand to his lips to drop kisses all along his knuckles. “Already mapped it ages ago,” he mumbled with a smile. “Just reassessing, y’know.”

Aziraphale chuckled, which gently shook both of their bodies in a terrible endearing way. He drew Crowley closer with the hand the demon wasn’t holding and pressed a bruising kiss to the base of his lover’s neck. “What a lovely way to awaken,” he purred, the sound rumbling through his chest and against Crowley’s back. 

They stayed that way a while longer, until the very first hints of sunlight began to peak out across the city outside their window. Crowley wriggled up onto an elbow and leaned toward the candles on the bedside table, intending to blow them out. However, his action was halted when Aziraphale lifted a finger to the demon’s lips. “Leave them a moment longer, darling,” he insisted in a voice that made Crowley shiver. 

The demon rolled over to face his angel, curiosity and arousal waging a war in his body as he came to face darkened blue eyes and a sly smile. “What are you plotting now, angel?” he hissed playfully. 

Aziraphale’s response came in the form of gently pressing Crowley back into the mattress and climbing over to straddle his sharp hips. His warm fingers came to guide the demon’s hands up above their heads, until Crowley was grasping the bars at the head of the bed, with the unspoken assumption that he would stay there unless told otherwise. Then Aziraphale reached for one of the candles. 

Crowley drew in a sharp breath and bit his lip, and immediately found himself the recipient of a soft, loving smile. “Traffic light rules, dearest,” his angel told him, and the demon nodded his agreement. 

The anticipation was the worst bit. Crowley held his breath while Aziraphale slowly tipped the candle, his whole body tensing as the hot wax began to spill over the edge. He watched with wide eyes as the drop of wax fell-

“ _ Oh! _ ”

The impact was hot - a sharp kind of shock, similar to being pinched - but the heat dissipated quickly, leaving behind a centralized warmth and a strangely pleasing tightness as the wax dried to his skin. “That’s…” Crowley swallowed hard and tightened his grip on the headboard. “That’s interesting…”

Aziraphale bit his lip, failing to hide his grin. “Color, my love?”

Crowley squirmed a little, perhaps just a little bit embarrassed by the way his pants were growing more snug, and swallowed again. “G-green,” he barely breathed. 

By the time the morning sun was well and truly risen, its light shining throughout the flat and rendering the candlelight superfluous, Crowley’s chest and stomach were an angelic art piece of red dots and splashes. The demon was no longer gripping the headboard, though his arms had not lowered; he had instead gone rather limp, eyes fluttering closed as he sighed into the sensations his angel provided. He was half hard, but somehow blissfully mindless, relaxed in a way that usually only came in the moments following orgasm. He almost whimpered when the little condensed-heat impacts ceased and he felt Aziraphale shift in order to put the candle back down. 

There was another shift, a rustle of movement, and then soft lips pressed to the corner of his own, drawing out a long, serene sigh. Crowley forced his eyes halfway open and met the most beautiful blue eyes in the universe. His little smile was completely involuntary. 

“Did you enjoy that, my love?” Aziraphale asked as he pressed further sweet, tender kisses along the demon’s cheekbones and jaw. 

Crowley hummed some kind of affirmative noise, feeling rather as though he’d melted into the bed, much like the wax that had molded against his skin. “Where’d y’ learn that…?” he managed to ask. 

“One learns a great deal when one reads a wide variety of literature, dearest.”

Crowley smiled wider and let his eyes fall closed once more, ridiculously in love and wonderfully wobbly all over. 

“Did your literature also tell you how to clean off the wax without ripping all the hair from my chest?”

A snort, and a giggle, and a playful press of teeth against the demon’s earlobe. 

“Let’s find out, shall we?”


	13. Day 13: Decorating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale decides to turn the cottage into a classy holiday wonderland, but can't find Crowley to show him when it's done...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

The most important bit, in Aziraphale’s personal opinion, was the tree, but he also enjoyed a variety of decorations, especially the more traditional ones. He loved the classic looks, the winter greenery and bright baubles in red and silver and gold. He recalled many beautiful holiday events he had been to throughout the years and did his best to emulate their timeless elegance. 

This would be the first year he would be decorating the cottage from scratch - last year having miracled the tree and decorations from the bookshop on Christmas Eve - and the angel was determined to make it magical. He also thought that, perhaps, he could make it a bit of a surprise for Crowley. 

The demonic serpent was sleeping longer hours these days, as was his wont when the cold weather began playing games with his less-than-normal physiology. As such, when Aziraphale got the urge to get the decorating done in the wee hours of the morning, he knew he had a good three or four hours before his husband would come stumbling down the stairs. Plenty of time to create a holiday wonderland for his sweetheart. 

He began simply, with long strings of garland hung around door frames, across the tops of bookshelves, and along the windowsills. That looked quite lovely on its own, but Aziraphale decided to take it up a notch by adding bold, red silk bows to the center of each run, noting how beautifully the color would match his darling demon’s hair. 

The next step was a wreath on every door, adorned with brilliant red holly berries and wisps of silver ribbon worked through the boughs. Then a pair of tartan tablecloths of reds and greens, silvers and golds; one on the kitchen table, the other on the coffee table in the living room. 

And once the angel had gotten started, well...soon several hours had passed while he trimmed the cottage with shining garland, sparkling stars, tiny fairy lights on the ceiling that gave the magical impression of snowflakes falling indoors, and gorgeous, vibrant pots of poinsettias, grown by Crowley himself in the greenhouse out behind their garden. 

Aziraphale stood back and admired his work with a pleased grin. Perhaps it wasn’t quite as elegant or refined as some of the grand Christmas balls he had attended back when such things were more popular, but it was certainly charming and warm and festive. The angel could hardly help but be proud. 

There was only one last thing to do, and that was wake his dearest and present him with their own little Christmas haven. Aziraphale crept quietly toward their bedroom with a giddy smile on his face, only to press the door open...and find that their bed was empty. His face dropped and he blinked rapidly, both surprised and confused. His gaze wandered throughout the room, checking the floors, walls, and ceilings (one never knew, with Crowley), but found nothing. With a bit of a frown, he left the bedroom door open and wandered back throughout the rest of the cottage. 

Crowley wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen, nor was he in the washroom or the library. There was no sign of him in the garden, and the Bentley was visible in the driveway from the kitchen window. 

“Where in the world-?” Aziraphale muttered to himself and, as a final thought, pulled open the front door to peer out into the yard. 

_ There _ was Crowley, standing in the middle of the snowy yard, arms crossed, looking up at the cottage with a remarkably goofy grin on his face. He caught sight of Aziraphale almost immediately and grinned even more widely, looking positively pleased as punch. “Angel!” he called, uncrossing his arms in order to wave the other over. “Come see!”

Aziraphale once again blinked rapidly, though he did so while sliding a pair of winter boots onto his feet. “See what, darling?” he called back while pushing his arms through a woolen jumper. 

Crowley was practically vibrating with excitement. “Woke up earlier and caught a peek of you decorating inside,” he admitted. “Thought I’d surprise you by doing the outside!” He rushed to link his arm with Aziraphale’s and pulled the angel out into the yard, spinning him to face the cottage. “What do you think?”

Aziraphale gaped. There were strings of large, teardrop-shaped bulbs around every window, flashing purples and blues. ‘Dripping’ icicle lights hung from every inch of the eaves and the porch railings. An entire fleet of plastic reindeer - one with a bright red nose - were grazing in the yard, surrounded by little piles of fake gifts in every color of the rainbow. And up on the rooftop, standing on either side of an oversized wooden sign that screamed ‘Happy Holidays!’ were two life-sized beings - one with white robes and wings, and fluffy white curls; the other with black robes and wings and hair as red as holly berries. 

It was bright, and it was garish, and it was almost ridiculously mismatched in every possible way. It was quite possibly as much the  _ opposite _ of the serene beauty that Aziraphale had created inside as was possible. It was…

It was…

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed, unable to keep the grin from his face even if he’d wanted to. “It’s  _ perfect _ .” He tore his gaze away from the scene before him to meet his husband’s honey-gold eyes and, miraculously, managed to fall just a bit more in love with him than he had already been. 

Crowley grinned right back, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an overjoyed child. “Y’ mean it?” he prodded. 

And Aziraphale drew him in for a kiss, the meeting of their lips chasing away the cool air of the winter day. 

“ _ Perfect. _ ”


	14. Day 14: At the Ritz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has a surprise waiting for Aziraphale at the Ritz, and the angel surprises him right back with a loving declaration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

It would be quite safe to say that the London Ritz dining room was one of the favored culinary establishments of the angel called Aziraphale. It would therefore also be safe to say that invitation to said establishment by the angel’s demonic husband would hardly have been any kind of great surprise. Taking these things into account, it was hence rather a humorous situation for the aforementioned demon to watch as both surprise  _ and _ confusion appeared on his angel’s face, for they weren’t headed toward the dining room. Instead, they were on an elevator headed up, up, up, to one of the lavish suites.

“Darling?” Aziraphale asked simply as the elevator doors opened. 

Crowley merely gave his angel a winning smile and guided him down the hall, to a door that opened welcomingly at their arrival. 

Aziraphale stepped inside, curiosity certainly getting the best of him by this point, and gasped, a hand fluttering to his face. 

The suites at the Ritz were, of course, opulent at the  _ worst _ of times, but what Aziraphale had just stepped into was like something out of a fairy-tale dream. Every surface was draped with fresh evergreen boughs and holly berries. Two stockings were hung on the mantle, below which a gorgeous, roaring fire was burning. A polished hardwood table before the enormous picture windows was covered in gleaming silver and gold platters, atop which were piled a wide variety of delicious-looking treats and nibbles, all of it interspersed by a smattering of glowing candles. Steam and a delectable scent of vanilla bean wafted out from the bathroom door, where Aziraphale was certain he would find a steaming hot bath covered by mounds of fragrant bubbles. 

“Oh,  _ Crowley _ …” the angel gasped, turning to meet his demon as the door was closed and locked. “It’s all so lovely, my dearest, but why-?”

Crowley cut Aziraphale off by slithering forward to snake his arms around his angel’s soft body and press a bruising kiss to his lips. When he pulled back his glasses had somehow vanished, and so Aziraphale was looking lovingly up into gorgeous golden eyes. “It’s the holidays,” the demon teased with a smirk, “and while I’m sure dinner at our usual table would have been excellent, I felt like...doting.”

“Doting,” Aziraphale repeated, his smile turning into a full, tormenting grin. 

“Shut it,” the demon growled back, but without any bite. He grabbed Aziraphale’s hand and guided him to the washroom. It was, as the angel had suspected, housing a wonderful-looking bubble bath in a tub easily designed to fit three or four people. There were candles lit all around the room, and very soft classical music playing somewhere The vanilla scent was to die for. Aziraphale could feel the warmth of the bath room here and was already itching to climb in. 

“Go on,” Crowley insisted, leaning over to lay a soft kiss on his angel’s cheek. “Strip down, hop in, and enjoy yourself. I’ll be right back with a plate of nibbles.”

He was out the door before Aziraphale could say anything, so instead the angel approached the steaming tub, ran his fingers along the bubbles until the tips touched the water, and wriggled with pleasure at the perfect temperature. With a quick glance toward the bathroom door he snapped his fingers and was disrobed, his clothes neatly folded and stacked on a chair out in the main room. Crowley must have noticed because an amused chuckle reached Aziraphale’s ears as he slowly climbed into the gloriously hot water. 

“Oh lord…” the angel groaned as he sank down to his chin. It was hardly as though he didn’t enjoy hot baths in the comfort of their own home, but there was just something about  _ this _ ...being surrounded by elegance and candlelight, and whatever was creating those delicious scents and that beautiful music...it was difficult  _ not _ to melt into a puddle of celestial goo. 

He’d actually begun to drift off a little by the time Crowley reappeared (Aziraphale suspected he’d been slow on purpose in hopes of giving the angel time to relax) with a grin and a plate of various foods. “Enjoying yourself, angel?” the demon asked with a bit of a chuckle. 

Aziraphale forced his eyes open, refusing to let himself drift when there was food carried by a gorgeous demon to be had. “Very much, love,” he sighed, shifting a tad to face Crowley as he sat down beside the tub. The angel eyed the plate of scrumptious-looking finger foods with interest, but then met his husband’s eye with an adoring gaze. “I must admit, however, that I am at a bit of a loss as to what prompted this sudden desire to surround me with such magnificence.”

It was clear that this ‘doting’ hadn’t occurred on a whim by the way Crowley’s cheeks quickly turned a rather fetching pink. To put off his response, the demon lifted a chocolate-covered strawberry and offered it to his angel with a very tempting quirk of his lips. Aziraphale opened his mouth just wide enough to allow Crowley to place the berry on his tongue. He hummed as the chocolate began to melt against his taste buds, and moaned when the first chew revealed a cream cheese filling inside. 

“It’s just…” Crowley began, voice quiet, as he offered Aziraphale a miniature puff pastry. “Ever since we’ve been properly  _ together _ ...you...you  _ indulge _ me, a lot…”

Aziraphale paused, mid-chew, to blink at his husband, who was quite red about the ears now, and staring stubbornly down at the plate in his hand. 

“You...you’ve been  _ taking care _ of me, and spoiling me, and…” Crowley stopped to clear his throat, a nervous little laugh in the sound. “Just...just wanted to return the favor, is all…”

There was a moment of silence that may have been only a few seconds, but felt like an eternity. Then the room was full of the sound of water splashing in every direction as Aziraphale scrambled to lean up over the edge of the tub and wrap his arms around his demon. Crowley let out a little yelp and dropped the plate (which smartly landed right-side-up without a single morsel out of place) as his shirt immediately became soaked through and a hot, insistent kiss was pressed to his lips. 

Only when several moans and little gasps had been drawn from the demon did Aziraphale finally pull back to settle his husband with a fond (and rather heated) look. “Oh my foolish darling,” the angel huffed playfully, “don’t you understand? You’ve been taking care of  _ me _ for millennia! Doting, spoiling,  _ indulging _ … Crowley, you have done all of those things thousands of times over, so if anyone is in a position to be returning favors, I’m afraid I’m still on that side of the tally board.”

Crowley stared, mouth hanging just slightly open, shirt dripping. “Is...is that why you’ve been-?”

Aziraphale was shaking his head before the demon could finish his sentence. “No, my love,” he said, just a bit stern in tone. “I’m not attempting to ‘make up’ for all you’ve done for me over the years. I simply, plainly, and truthfully  _ adore _ taking care of you, in every possible way.” His wet hand found Crowley’s cheek, thumb stroking sweetly. “I love you, my darling.”

Crowley swallowed, and blinked, and if perhaps his eyes were a little wet it was surely because of the bathwater that Aziraphale had splashed everywhere. “Love you too, angel,” he managed, just barely. 

Aziraphale pulled him in for another kiss and then pulled back with a cheeky smile. 

“Now, what do you say you rid yourself of those wet clothes and join me, and perhaps we can take care of each other, hmm?”

“Ngk-”


	15. Day 15: By the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is cold, but his angel is so warm and inviting sitting there by the fire...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on, you knew with a prompt like "By the Fire" there was going to be some kind of sex involved. ;P
> 
> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

Crowley came inside from checking on the greenhouse, shivering madly all over his body. It was a particularly cold evening, and even though he had only been outside for a few moments, the chill had worked its way through him in a way that was wholly unpleasant. He was terribly put out about it, in fact. That was, until he shivered his way into the living room and saw what waited for him. 

There was a roaring fire in the hearth, flaming like anything, throwing out a beautiful radiant heat that the demon could feel wafting across the room toward him. The crackling of the firewood called to him like a siren song, urging him to come curl up on the floor in front of the blaze and relish in the comfort. He began forward to do just that, but paused, because there was something even more tempting in the room that begged his demonic attention. 

Aziraphale had turned his favorite armchair so that it was facing the fire, and in said chair the angel sat. His ridiculous little reading glasses were perched upon his nose, and an old, well-loved tome sat in his hands as he devoured the pages by firelight. He was wearing a snuggly pair of tartan-print pajamas. 

The sight was far too enormous a temptation. Gnawing on his lip in an attempt to fight back a sly grin, Crowley dropped to his hands and knees and quietly crawled toward his angelic husband. 

For a little while Aziraphale pretended not to notice him. Crowley slowly and quietly peeked his head up between the angel’s knees, looking up at him with blown golden eyes, blinking with false innocence. When Aziraphale didn’t respond, eyes still firmly glued to the page, the demon wriggled up a little further and looked up at the angel from beneath his eyelashes. When still no reaction was forthcoming, the angel continuing to read as though nothing at all unusual was occurring, Crowley ducked his head beneath Aziraphale’s book and climbed up until he was straddling the angel’s lap, nose buried into the soft tartan collar of the pajamas. 

Only at this point did Aziraphale finally acknowledge his husband with a gentle chuckle and a, “Seeking warmth, my lovely serpent?”

Crowley nodded, nuzzling his head against the angel, leaving little kitten kisses along his neck. “Mmm...warm angel,” he purred. “Soft, warm angel, s’nice…”

“Yes, it is rather cozy here by the fire, isn’t it?” Aziraphale hummed as he placed his book aside. Newly freed fingers wound their way up beneath the demon’s shirt, rubbing firm circles against chilled skin. Crowley groaned a little at the touch, which made Aziraphale chuckle further. “But do you know the best way to share body heat, my darling?”

Crowley drew his angel’s earlobe between his teeth and made an inquisitive sound. In response Aziraphale snapped his fingers; in the blink of an eye they were both divested of their clothing. Crowley gasped at the sudden rush of air to his skin, but then melted against his angel’s body. 

“Yesssss…” the demon hissed, hips moving of their own accord. “Much better…”

Aziraphale’s fingers found Crowley’s chin, gently lifting and manipulating him until they were kissing. It was a slow, tender, languorous kiss, but a bit further down a deeper heat was stirring, making itself known. The demon’s hips moved insistently, a needy sound working up his throat. That sound, combined with the flushed, hard warmth of the demon’s cock against his belly lit a second fire in the angel, one that burned with protective desire. 

“Let me take care of you, love,” Aziraphale growled, nipping down along the length of Crowley’s lovely throat. “Let me warm you up, my dear, sweet serpent.”

Crowley made a grumbling noise, but it was more of a whine than anything else. “M’ not  _ sssweet _ ,” he argued, even as his hips moved and his fingers clutched at his angel’s shoulders. He opened his mouth to complain further, but the words melted into a moan when Aziraphale’s miraculously slicked and warmed fingers wrapped around his cock and stroked slow and firm. 

“There, my dearest…” the angel crooned, moving his hand in a relaxed smooth caress. “Is this warming you up?”

“Hnnnnn-ngg,” Crowley responded, eyes half-lidded and jaw gone slack. His chest and shoulders were quite red, heating up nicely, which made Aziraphale smile. That smile faltered, however, when the demon wriggled, shifting position enough to get his own arm down between them, and wrapped his hand around the angel’s cock. “Y-you too,” Crowley huffed, visibly working to match Aziraphale’s pace and technique. 

It was lazy, and loving, and  _ oh so warm _ , and precisely what the demon had wanted from the moment he saw his angel sitting there in front of the fire. They worked one another with unhurried motions, bodies pressed close, exploring one another with tender, yet heated, kisses. Crowley wasn’t certain how long they went on like that, but he drank in every second of it, every twitch of fingers, every gasp of breath. When he finally tipped over the edge it was less like hurtling over a cliff and more like miraculously drifting down from the clouds having decided it was time to set foot on land once again. Aziraphale followed shortly after, spurred to completion by the look of orgasmic contentment on his lover’s face. 

Crowley shifted, pulled himself around so that he was draped sideways across Aziraphale’s lap, knees pulled in close to the angel’s belly, a hand pressed possessively against the angel’s chest. His eyelids were drooping as he leaned on Aziraphale’s shoulder and gazed into the fire. “Mmmm…” he sighed sleepily. “This is where I live now.”

Aziraphale chuckled and made a face, but made no attempt to move or miracle them back into their clothes. 

“Well then, welcome home, my love.”


	16. Day 16: Mince Pies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale discuss the quandary of just why they're known as 'mince pies'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the shortest one yet, but only because I couldn't talk about mince pies for all that long. lol This one also happens to be based on a real conversation between myself and my lovely compatriots in the Good Omens NSFW Fic Book Club group on Twitter. XD
> 
> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

“Why do they call them mince pies anyway?”

Aziraphale paused mid-stir, glancing over his shoulder at Crowley, who was peering down at the baking dish with a puzzled frown on his face. “What’s that, darling?” the angel prompted.

Crowley slithered closer, placing one hand on his angel’s shoulder and the other on the countertop while he continued to scrutinize the dish Aziraphale had been stirring. Inside was a chopped mixture of raisins, currants, apple pieces, and assorted candied fruits, combined with zest and spices and baked for over two hours. As the angel stirred, the juices and flavors further mixed together, creating an amalgamation that was something like jam, but far chunkier. Sweet scents wafted up from the compound, as well as from the lovely little pastries off to the side that would be filled with it. 

“Why do they call them mince pies?” Crowley repeated, gesturing with his nose toward the warm slop that Aziraphale was once again stirring. “Not to mention calling that stuff ‘mincemeat’? There’s not an ounce of meat in it!”

Aziraphale hummed and considered this as he stirred, a little frown flickering on his own face. 

“I mean,” Crowley continued, having apparently put a lot of thought into this issue, “When someone says ‘mince’ you immediately think of ground meat, right? Beef, usually. So you would think they would be little meat pies, right?”

Aziraphale made a little affirmative sound. He reached for a pre-measured portion of brandy and began to slowly stir the alcohol into the sweet fruit mixture. 

“And as if that weren’t confusing enough,” the demon went on, “They actually call the stuff inside ‘mincemeat’, despite the fact that it couldn’t possibly be  _ farther _ from any kind of meat.”

This time Aziraphale actually offered some input. “I believe there are some recipes that include meat in the fruit mix.”

Crowley seemed aghast. “Well that’s just adding  _ more _ mystery to the whole concept!” he exclaimed. “Because who the hell combines minced meat with fruit and sugar?!”

Aziraphale chuckled at that. “I’m sure you could probably find a wide variety of recipes that do just that, love,” he insisted, knowing damn well that he was playing devil’s advocate at this point. 

Crowley made a sound that was part way between a laugh and a gag. “I forbid you from seeking them out,” he teased, shuddering dramatically as though the very thought was threatening his health. 

Aziraphale had begun spooning his fruit mixture into the little prepared pie shells, moving with grace and patience so as to not spill a single drop. “Now you know that I cannot possibly adhere to such an edict,” he said in his most serious voice, fighting a smile. “A culinary adventurer such as myself? I simply  _ must  _ look into this now, you know.”

The growl that rumbled up through Crowley’s chest wasn’t the least bit threatening. “I  _ forbid _ it,” he repeated, wrapping his arms around the angel and nipping playfully at an earlobe. “If I have to, I’ll simply pin you down and refuse to let you near any cookbooks.”

A spoonful of fruit plopped into a tart-sized pie shell and an angel smirked, not the least bit concerned. “Oh, darling, you know perfectly well how much stronger I am than you,” he pointed out. “However do you expect to be able to ‘pin me down’ for long?”

In response, Crowley’s tongue flicked out and licked a warm, wet strip of flesh from Aziraphale’s clavicle up to the sensitive spot just behind his ear. The demon grinned at the angel’s sharp little intake of air and purred, “Oh, I believe I could think of a few ways to keep you down and preoccupied…”

Aziraphale bit his lip and muttered something that sounded like, “Bloody distracting serpent,” as he filled another pie. 

“You  _ love  _ it…” Crowley snickered.

And there was, of course, no denying that. Instead, Aziraphale smiled, filled the last pie, dipped his finger in the remaining mincemeat, and twirled to press the finger past Crowley’s lips. The demon hummed with surprise and delight, licking away every last drop of sweetness. 

“Alright, you wily thing,” the angel said in a low voice. “Challenge accepted. Just as soon as the pies are out of the oven.”

Crowley groaned, but grinned. 

Mission accomplished. 


	17. Day 17: Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is all settled in for some lovely music and a bit of reading, but there's something disturbing his plans...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

With a steady hand and a smile on his face, Aziraphale carefully placed the needle of his antique gramophone down on the record and stepped away. There were a few crackles, a few pops, and then the first orchestral notes began to play, the sound much louder and much clearer than the extremely retro device should have been capable of. The angel’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, the smile on his face spreading as ‘Carol of the Bells’ began in earnest. Aziraphale was a fan of a wide variety of Christmas music, but this one in particular was one of his all-time favorites. In fact, he had been present for the first ever performance of it. It was a rather fond memory.

With the gramophone ringing out the lovely holiday movement, Aziraphale selected a book from among his rather large selection of seasonal favorites and settled down into his armchair to enjoy a good sit and a bit of reading. 

That was, until a dissonant sound tweaked his ear and caused him to frown down at the first page of his book. The angel glanced up at his gramophone, cheerfully playing away, and blinked. After a moment he shook his head, assumed he had imagined it, and returned his attention to the book in his lap. 

He’d scarcely had time to look down, however, when he heard the sound again. His head popped up, the frown back on his face, and his eyes squinting in the direction of the gramophone. The bells rang their beautiful song, with not the tiniest quirk of an issue. And yet, this time Aziraphale was certain he had heard it. A sound that wasn’t quite right. A rogue bell. A little off-key jingle that didn’t belong in either of the places where it had sounded. A buzzing fly in the auditory ointment, as it were. 

Aziraphale glared at the gramophone for much longer than was likely necessary. When next he allowed his body to relax and his eyes to drift down to the still-open book, he was  _ ready _ . He heard the noise - that little dissonant intruder - and immediately snapped his fingers. The hiss and sudden, erratic jangling that followed made the angel grin like a cat that had gotten the cream. 

He stood, placing his book gently down upon the chair, and walked over to the little table on which his gramophone sat. With deliberate slowness, the angel then knelt down onto the floor, lifted the hem of the dark red tablecloth, and smirked at the sight he’d revealed. 

The little black snake was wriggling desperately on the floor, red underbelly pointed up, and the bell he’d been holding by the tip of his tail swinging back and forth as he swung around in every direction, seeking relief. Four white feathers, held aloft and given agency by angelic magic, chased the snake relentlessly, tickling him without any hint of respite. 

Aziraphale chuckled at the image, but didn’t allow the serpent to ‘suffer’ for long before snapping his fingers again to banish the ruthless feathers. The snake collapsed to stillness all at once, belly-up, eyes wide. His tongue flicked out once. Somehow he managed to look both sheepish and put out at the same time, which made Aziraphale chuckle again. 

“Feeling a little mischievous tonight, darling?” the angel asked, eyes twinkling. 

Crowley stared for a moment, then wriggled over onto his belly and looked up at Aziraphale with his chin pressed against the floor, much like a puppy might once he realized he’d been bad. The sight set Aziraphale to a fit of giggling. “Oh, come here you silly serpent,” he huffed, holding out a hand. Crowley didn’t hesitate at all before slithering forward, winding up the angel’s arm and around his back to settle over his shoulders, snout bumping against his cheek. 

Aziraphale stood, brushing at the knees of his trousers, and lifted his hand to stroke a finger along the top of Crowley’s scaly head. “Now, will you behave if I let you stay there while I read?” he inquired with mock sternness. 

Crowley stared and flicked his tongue out. 

“Hmm...how about if I read aloud to you?” the angel asked, inferring the demon’s thoughts.

Another flick of the tongue, and another bopping of snout to cheek. 

Aziraphale grinned, unable to contain the soft warmth that flowed through him. “Very well, darling. I believe that is a reasonable compromise.” 

He reached for the gramophone needle, lifting it and drawing it back to restart the song, and turned to press a kiss to the top of Crowley’s head before sneakily stealing the bell from the saucy snake’s tail. 


	18. Day 18: Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angel and a demon drink quite a bit of wine, and a (sexy) drunken challenge is issued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

When Crowley had seen the cottage for the first time, on Christmas Eve the previous year, he had been absolutely blown away by how positively  _ perfect _ it was. His angel had truly gone above and beyond, not only choosing a beautiful home in a lovely location with a garden that would keep any demon plenty busy, but he had also done everything in his power to make the cottage truly, completely  _ theirs _ . It had aspects of both of them in every room, each nook and cranny, and even some places that were hidden to curious eyes.

One such place hadn’t come standard with the cottage, but had in fact been miracled there by Aziraphale, much to Crowley’s intense delight. It was a cellar, the door to which was hidden behind a bookshelf that would easily move with the snap of celestial fingers, and it was full nearly to bursting with an astounding variety of alcohol. 

Crowley and Aziraphale had their own sections in the cellar - the demon’s stacked with a wide selection of rums and whiskeys, the angel’s with fine cognac and liqueurs - but between them was a dizzying collection of wine, which the two had been enjoying together since humans first worked out how to concoct such a thing. 

It was the wine that they had gotten into on this particular night, and it was the wine that was to blame for most of what was about to occur. For, you see, while Crowley and Aziraphale had been consuming vast quantities of alcohol since the  _ birth _ of alcohol, neither had ever been particularly fond of the idea of developing a tolerance to such, and so...they hadn’t. Thus, on this night, the angel and the demon were sat on their sofa, a table full of empty bottles in front of them, slouching against one another and giggling like fools as Christmas specials played on the television across from them. 

The special they were currently paying only a passing sense of attention to was some kind of feel-good romantic comedy, and at that moment featured a shy-but-enthusiastic young woman attempting to pull off a sexy strip-tease for her beau. 

“Oh the poor dear,” Aziraphale giggled, waving his wine glass toward the screen with a flourish that  _ should  _ have had the liquid spilling all over the room. “She looks about ready to combust, her cheeks are so red!”

Crowley made a sound that possibly began life as a raspberry, but ended it as a snort. “Pssssssh,” he hissed, stretching his whole body as he spoke. “Ssh’ jus’ needsss confidence! S’ all ‘bout  _ believin’  _ tha’ yer hot.”

Barely a beat went by, and then Aziraphale twisted his head in a way that had Crowley slipping and landing in his lap, looking up at him with a little “oof” of surprise. The angel grinned down at him and waved his wine glass toward the center of the room. “Go on then,” he teased. “Sho’ me how’s really done!”

And whether the angel had been serious or simply teasing, it certainly didn’t matter, because Crowley was definitely not one to back down from a challenge. “K’, I will!” he announced, flailing gracelessly to his feet. He deposited his wine glass somewhere in the vague vicinity of the table (it found its way in the end) and snapped his fingers, muting the television and producing instead a musical track that was more suited for softcore pornography than anything else. 

Aziraphale snorted at the choice of accompaniment, hand lifting to his mouth in an attempt to stifle it. He failed, but when Crowley took up his spot in the middle of the room and shot him a heated look the angel recovered himself and watched silently, intrigued. 

(He was, of course, still grinning like a fool, because who wouldn’t be?)

To start, Crowley wasn’t really wearing enough articles of clothing to perform a  _ proper _ strip-tease, but in the moment he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Instead, he began wriggling his hips to the music, a sinuous side-to-side slither that was no less delicious for the hint of a drunken sway mixed in. He concentrated hard, focusing to keep his gaze glued on the angel’s, and began to slowly trail the tips of his fingers up his body. When he reached his shoulders he lifted his hands over his head, interlinking his fingers for a few moments while he wiggled and writhed, before working them into his hair, yanking the elastic free so that red waves tumbled down around his ears. 

On the sofa, Aziraphale sat and watched, rapt, throat gone a little dry. A little, “Oh-” escaped him, and his wine glass found its way onto the table next to Crowley’s before he could drop it. 

Long, delicate-looking fingers trailed feather-light down the demon’s throat, over his Adam’s apple, down to the first button on his shirt. He made no attempt to manipulate the buttons, but as his fingers passed they popped, one by one until the shirt fell open, revealing the slim expanse of flesh beneath. With a rather fancy twirl (that was interrupted only momentarily by an intoxicated stumble), the shirt went sailing across the room, leaving the demon’s gloriously sinuous torso bare. 

Aziraphale swallowed hard. His cheeks felt rather hot, his trousers rather snug. 

Crowley continued his dance - one that would be rightly described as an upright slither - turning in a slow, teasing circle as his thumbs hooked beneath his trousers. While his back was turned to the angel the button and zipper became miraculously open, and suddenly the fabric was sliding down his hips and thighs much more easily than the skin-tight fabric normally would have. 

He nearly tripped trying to step out of his trousers as they dropped to the floor, but the wide-eyed and quite-clearly aroused angel didn’t even seem to notice. So, with a grin that would have been predatory (had he not been quite so drunk), Crowley swayed his way forward until he was standing between Aziraphale’s knees. Then...the coup de grace. He turned his back on the angel, and oh-so-slowly bent him half until his fingers brushed his ankles and his arse was well-and-truly in his husband’s face. 

After that, well...things became hazy in the best possible way. Crowley recalled powerful hands on his hips, yanking him around until his chest was pressed over the back of the sofa, nails dragging down his back, teeth at his shoulder, heavy breathing, desperate panting, pressure, fullness, delicious fucking fullness, screaming and swearing and keening and-

Sometime just before midnight, Crowley found himself sprawled atop his angel, who was himself sprawled across the sofa, neither of them with a stitch on but delightfully sweat-slicked and still more than a little bit on the tipsy side. He was delightfully sore and a bit sticky, and there was an entirely different move on the television than the one they’d been watching before. 

He might be forgiven, therefore, for lifting his head and gazing at his angel with an astoundingly cocky grin on his face and pronouncing, “Told ya it was ‘bout confidence.”

But then, the angel might also be forgiven for smirking right back and responding, “Oh...I expect it was about a bit more than that, love.”


	19. Day 19: Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A celestial couple go for a nighttime carriage ride through a sparkling light display...with a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

“Now listen here,  _ Flicka _ ,” said Crowley, in a tone and with a glare that he surely believed were quite terrifying. “I don’t like you and you don’t like me, but we’re gonna make it work for the angel here, you got it?”

To the demon’s right, Aziraphale stood with a mittened hand to his mouth, trying quite hard to stifle his laughter. Up in the driver’s seat of the carriage, the driver in question stared with an eyebrow raised, while doing his best not to appear unprofessional. Quite a feat, Aziraphale thought, considering that his demonic husband was having a furious stare-down with a Clydesdale that didn’t seem the least bit impressed by him. 

“Come along, dear,” the angel chuckled, yanking on Crowley’s sleeve. He cheerfully led his husband up into the bright red carriage and pulled him close so that they could share the blanket he’d taken with them to cover their laps. To the driver Aziraphale called out a pleasant, “At your leisure, good sir!” and a moment later they were off, the Clydesdale trotting evenly. 

It had been Aziraphale’s idea to attend this particular event, but of course Crowley had been all too happy to indulge him, despite his personal dislike of anything equine in nature. The angel had heard about it on a local radio station and thought it sounded quite lovely. A kind of Christmas display had been set up all along a nature trail, through which visitors could be taken by horse-drawn carriage for a small fee that would be donated to the local children’s hospital. It had been ages since Aziraphale had been on a horse-drawn carriage, and the description of the display had sounded so lovely, he simply couldn’t turn down the opportunity. The fact that the proceeds were going to charity was the icing on the cake, of course, and the angel had ensured that  _ their  _ small fee had miraculously become much more lucrative upon finding itself inside the treasurer’s lockbox. 

It was a lovely evening, not too cold, although that didn’t stop Aziraphale from putting his arm around Crowley’s waist and holding his darling close to keep him warm. The demon grumbled something non-verbal, but there was an unmistakable twitch of a smile on his lips as he took in their surroundings. 

The display itself didn’t begin until they were well into the wooded path, which meant that nothing could be seen from outside until they were upon it. It was all for the better, because the reveal was fantastic. 

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped, his eyes gone as wide as they could go, his head on a swivel as he fought to take it all in. There were strings of lights  _ everywhere _ . Dripping icicle lights hung strategically from the trees. The path was guided with ‘fences’ of glowing red and gold. Twinkling yellow lights were set back from the path, mimicking the effect of hundreds of fireflies flitting amongst the trees. And all along the path, as they travelled, there were little scenes done up in colored lights. 

There was a section made up to look like a candy forest, with giant lollipops and sugar drops, guarded by gates of enormous candy canes. Another area was populated by little illuminated creatures; reindeer and penguins, polar bears and white rabbits. Yet another was littered with presents upon presents, punctuated by several trees done up in full decoration, tinsel and ornaments and all.

Aziraphale watched it all go by with pure glee, the smile never leaving his face for a moment. He pointed out particularly lovely bits to Crowley, gushing over the design and praising the humans who had done all of this, and for a lovely cause. Crowley took in the angel’s joy with a soft smile on his face and a pale flush on his cheeks that Aziraphale assumed was caused by the cold. It wasn’t until they reached the final section of lighting that the angel realized there was another reason for his husband to be a bit pink in the face. 

It was a nativity scene, done in muted lighting to give a more calm, quiet feeling to it all. The figures all gathered within the manger, gazing down upon the infant Christ, while a single bright light shone down from the highest tree available to resemble the guiding star. It was lovely, sweet and silent, but there was something else, something that many might look at with wonder and perhaps a bit of confusion. 

Beyond the manger, on a small hill looking down on the scene, were two figures who appeared to be watching from afar. One had wings lit in shimmering silver that twinkled like diamonds. The other had wings of the deepest navy blue, the lights so dark in color that they appeared almost like shining obsidian in the dark. The two figures held each other close, their foreheads pressed together, hands interlocked between them. It was clear, even from a distance, that the two figures were very, very much in love. 

Aziraphale’s hand fluttered over his chest, which had become quite warm and full. He turned to Crowley with eyes shimmering in the light of the display. “You sneaky serpent,” he accused, though his voice was soft and wavering a bit. “Did you take part in this event?”

Crowley scowled in response, but his lips were twitching. “Course not!” he sniffed. “Where’s the mischief in that?” And then, with a little smirk he added, “Snuck them in overnight when the humans were all gone.”

A tiny little swipe against the back of the demon’s hand was all the ‘punishment’ he got for his confession, before being drawn into a sweet, adoring kiss. 

Up ahead of the carriage the Clydesdale made a snuffling noise that sounded suspiciously like breathy laughter. 

“Oi,” Crowley grumbled, though he had eyes only for his angel. “Shut up, Flicka.”


	20. Day 20: Victorian Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our celestial pair head to a Christmas party at the Dowlings' residence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

“Darling, are you certain I shouldn’t have found something more appropriate to wear for this event?”

From the driver’s seat of the Bentley Crowley couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of Aziraphale actually questioning his own state of dress. “No, angel,” he insisted for the third or fourth time that evening. “Trust me, your usual outfit is going to be perfect tonight.”

Aziraphale eyed the demon from the passenger seat, finding this particularly difficult to believe, given how long Crowley had been teasing him for his antiquated style. The demon himself was wearing a ridiculously long trench coat with a high neck that completely obscured whatever he himself had chosen to wear for the Christmas party they were about to attend.

Aziraphale had to admit that he had been rather disbelieving when Crowley had first mentioned a holiday gathering at the Dowlings’ mansion. After all, neither of them had been back to the Dowlings’ since the infamous birthday party at which they had discovered they had been influencing the wrong boy. Apparently, though, Warlock had informed the demon that his parents had become quite close with the parents of the Them since the children had become friends, and that all of Crowley and Aziraphale’s human friends would be at the party. Crowley had also, evidently, pushed a bit of his influence on the Dowlings in order to encourage them to remember the celestial pair as old family friends. 

With those concerns out of the way, Aziraphale couldn’t help but be at least a bit excited for this party. It had been a while since they’d been to a big family-and-friends style party, and it would be quite lovely to see all of their humans in one place like this. It was just curious to the angel that Crowley had made such a fuss about ensuring that Aziraphale wear his usual tans and blues, including waistcoat, pocket-watch, and full coat. He had been quite prepared to wear something a little more suitable to the times, perhaps a straight tie rather than a bow tie, maybe something in a bit of a darker color… But when his husband caught him puttering about in their bedroom closet he’d immediately put the kibosh to the whole thing, and if that wasn’t terribly intriguing, nothing was. 

He was temporarily distracted from his thoughts when the Bentley pulled into the Dowlings’ drive. “Oh!” he gasped, a grin spreading across his face.

The long drive was fenced in by rows of bright white Christmas lights, with occasional posts decorated in shiny silver garland and bunches of holly. At the end of the drive stood the unnecessarily large home of the American ambassador, every one of its many windows glowing with the light of electric candles. Giant red satin bows hung from each windowsill, along with an enormous wreath of fresh spruce boughs above the main entrance. 

“How lovely!” Aziraphale exclaimed as he stepped out of the Bentley. His eyes were wide with wonder. “So few people take a more classic approach to holiday decorating. Of course, all the bright colors and cartoon characters and the like are quite lovely and fun as well, but it really is very nice to see such an elegant display such as this.” There was more that he intended to say, he was sure, but he was cut off when Crowley appeared at his side, grasping his hand and pulling him in for a quick, sweet kiss. 

“Shall we see what it looks like inside?” the demon suggested with a smirk. “Or were you hoping to spend the party in the garden?”

Aziraphale sniffed and crinkled his nose at his husband, but he was smiling. “Lead the way, then,” he huffed playfully.

They approached the door together, hand-in-hand, enjoying the soft, quiet beauty of the Dowlings’ outside display. When they reached the entrance Aziraphale lifted his hand to press the doorbell, and nearly fell over himself in alarm when Crowley simply reached for the doorknob and pushed the heavy mahogany portal open. 

“Crowley!” the angel exclaimed, aghast. “You can’t just walk into someone else’s-” 

He was all set to give his husband a thorough talking to about propriety, but he was distracted by a shout of his name from inside, and upon glancing toward the voice he found all the words he’d been about to say dying in his throat. 

The expansive foyer had been decorated much like the outside of the property, with large wreaths made of fresh boughs, huge red bows made of soft, shining satin, and a plethora of burning white, red, and green candles seemingly everywhere. A bundle of mistletoe hung low beneath the crystal chandelier, and several tables lined in silver and gold cloth housed bowls of punch and platters of treats, along with a number of small potted trees decorated in tiny ornaments. 

It was all quite beautiful, but what had shocked Aziraphale to silence was not the decorations, but the  _ people _ in the room. 

Warlock had been the one to call out, waving excitedly, and the boy hadn’t been lying when he said that all of their human friends would be there. Aziraphale saw the Them and their parents, along with the Dowlings, Anathema and Newton, Miss Tracy and Shadwell, and a number of others whom were undoubtedly friends of the Dowlings. And every last one of them - even the children, and even  _ Shadwell _ , for goodness sake - was dressed resplendently in beautiful suits and gowns. 

They looked like…

Aziraphale whipped around to face Crowley, just in time to see the demon pop his trench coat onto a coat rack, finally revealing what he wore beneath. He was all in black, his suit perfectly fitted to every angle of his body, with a deep red cravat woven perfectly beneath his collar. He had produced two top-hats from somewhere - one of them the precise color of Aziraphale’s waistcoat - and handed it to the angel with a flourish. 

“This is a  _ Victorian _ -themed party?” Aziraphale exclaimed, his grin spreading with growing excitement. “My dear, why ever didn’t you tell me?”

Crowley leaned down just enough to look over the top of his glasses and wink at his angel. “Thought it would make a good surprise,” he chuckled, wiggling the pale top-hat in Aziraphale’s direction. “Aren’t you glad that I made you keep your usual outfit now?”

You couldn’t have beaten the smile from Aziraphale’s face. He reached for his hat just as, somewhere further into the house, a band began the first melodic notes of ‘The Wexford Carol’. 

“You always take such wonderful care of me, darling, thank you,” the angel said with love in his eyes. He popped his hat on his head and pulled his demon to his side. “Now, let’s mingle!”


	21. Day 21: Crackers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale carefully considers a suspicious little parcel...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

It was suspicious; of that there was no doubt. 

Aziraphale stood in front of the coffee table in the living room, eyebrow raised, staring down at the conspicuous parcel laying there. His lip twitched, uncertain as to whether it should become a smile or a frown because, you see, this was suspicious. 

On the table lay a silver platter. On that platter was scattered a few handfuls of holly berries and leaves. And atop those berries and leaves sat a single colorful Christmas cracker in shiny, metallic reds and greens. 

A single Christmas cracker, sitting all by itself on a silver platter in the middle of the living room, would have been rather suspicious all by itself. What really cranked the suspicion level up to eleven, however, was the little white card propped up against it, on which were written the words: “You Know You Wanna”. 

Aziraphale stared at the display for a long time, admittedly curious but also stubbornly cautious. Some might have thought him an old fool for his caution. For goodness sake, it was just a Christmas cracker! But Aziraphale would have smirked at anyone who dare think him silly. After all, he was married to a demon. 

Crowley had been unusually absent this evening, which was always cause for careful consideration. An absent demon was often a mischievous demon. And while Aziraphale knew quite well that  _ his  _ demon’s brand of mischief was more playful than malicious, he still liked to be properly prepared for...surprises. 

So he stared, and he considered, and he became terribly, horribly curious, and his twitching lip began to lean more toward the smile than the frown.

Finally, suppressing a sigh, the angel lowered himself down to his knees on the living room floor and reached forward with both hands to gingerly lift the cracker from its fine display. He lifted it as though it was a bomb, watching it through slitted eyes, wary to the last moment. Then he wrapped his fingers around each of the cracker’s flared ends and, holding his breath, pulled. 

There was a loud, sharp ‘crack’ and a large puff of smoke and something shimmery, like glitter. Aziraphale dropped the ends of the cracker and leaned back, waving a hand at the smoke, shooing it away from his face. He coughed once, sneezed once, and allowed a single profanity to fall from his lips as the glitter seemed to, at once, be everywhere. The smoke began to dissipate. The angel was quite prepared to be frustrated with the mess that had been made. 

Then he saw the little yellow eyes looking up at him. 

The smile that spread across the angel’s face was entirely involuntary; he couldn’t have stopped it if his existence depended on it. For, sitting on the platter among the remains of the Christmas cracker, was a tiny black snake with a ruby-red underbelly, staring up at him from beneath the tiny little Santa hat on his head. 

“Oh  _ darling _ ,” Aziraphale exclaimed, entirely unable to stop the wave of giggles that rumbled up from his chest. “You are just...you are simply too much, my dearest.”

The snake’s tongue flicked out, and Aziraphale could have sworn his face managed to pull into a smile. 

The angel reached forward to boop a finger to the snake’s snout, giggling as he did so, and then laid his hand flat to allow the little serpent to slither up into it. “You’re adorable, my love,” he chuckled. “And the next time you try to argue that you’re not I shall most definitely be using this moment as my counterpoint.”


	22. Day 22: Christmas Pudding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise Christmas pudding turns into...something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

Crowley truly had no idea how he’d wound up in this position. 

The day had begun in a fairly standard fashion. He’d woken up late, stubbornly digging deeper into the blankets while the sun poked at him through the bedroom window. Eventually he had managed to convince himself to slither out of the bed, to dress himself in sinfully tight jeans and a band tee, and to make his way out into the rest of the cottage. He had greeted his angel, who was lounging by the fire with a book, and wandered off into the kitchen to make himself an extra-strong coffee. 

It was while in the kitchen that he had gotten the idea to fix up something special for his angel. A few cookbooks had been left on the countertop and the demon began to idly flip through them while sipping his liquid wakefulness. 

His fingers stopped when he reached a page displaying a traditional Christmas pudding - a chocolate variety with a sinful brandy sauce generously poured over the top. It looked positively delectable; something Aziraphale would certainly appreciate with fervor. 

Crowley made note of the page, and then he waited, for he knew that Aziraphale had plans to deliver presents to a local charity later that day, which would make for a perfect time to construct his little surprise. 

It went very well. Surprisingly well, if Crowley were being honest. Aziraphale left the cottage late that afternoon (not before kissing his darling demon goodbye, of course), leaving Crowley to his devices. The kitchen was stocked with everything the demon required. The oven didn’t play any of its nasty tricks. The ingredients set without any fuss. And the brandy sauce...oh, the brandy sauce came out exquisit…

The only thing that went wrong - if you could really say  _ wrong _ in this context - was that Aziraphale came home sooner than Crowley had been expecting, walking into the kitchen just as the demon was pouring the brandy sauce atop his perfectly shaped pudding. 

He had looked up, golden eyes gone a little wide at seeing his angel earlier than planned. He opened his mouth to say something - he wasn’t certain precisely what - only to snap it shut again when Aziraphale walked forward and stuck his finger in the pot of sauce. In the next moment the demon was watching his angel moan around that same finger as he sucked and licked the sauce from his own skin, eyelids fluttering. Aziraphale’s eye caught Crowley’s just as the demon swallowed, hard, and there was a darkness there in those baby blues. 

Before Crowley could parse what was even happening, he was flat on his back on their little kitchen table, legs hanging over one side, head hanging over the other, and his kit had vanished into the ether. Aziraphale appeared over him with the pot of remaining sauce, a deliciously  _ hungry _ look on his face as he carefully tipped it over the flat plains of Crowley’s naked body. 

The demon groaned and squirmed as the sauce hit his skin, warm and sticky. His cock was hard and leaking. It twitched when he lifted his head to look at Aziraphale and saw the angel licking his lips lasciviously. 

For some time after that Crowley’s mind went gloriously blank. He became nothing but sensation and desperation, wriggling and squirming, gasping and keening, moaning aloud whenever the angel’s tongue did something particularly clever or disgraceful. Every inch of his body tingled as though there was electricity pulsing through him. He felt that he could have come from just this - from having his angel’s mouth against him, cleaning his body, making him shine...but he held off, putting his stubbornness to good use, until Aziriaphale was  _ ready _ for him. 

He was glad that he did, because when every last drop of brandy sauce had been licked and sucked from his body, the angel’s lips found his aching cock, taking him in and swallowing him down without a hint of hesitation. It was, perhaps understandably, not long after that. Crowley came with a scream of his angel’s name, his back arched and his long fingers snapping chunks of wood from the table beneath him. Aziraphale took every last drop, swallowing as greedily as he’d licked at the brandy sauce, until Crowley began to twitch and keen with oversensitivity. Only then did the angel release him, only to immediately pull the demon up into his arms. He carried his exhausted lover to the living room sofa and sat them both down in a warm bundle of limbs, miracling a blanket over top of them and nuzzling his nose into wavy red hair to whisper sweet nothings into his darling’s ear. 

No, Crowley truly had no idea how he’d wound up in this position. 

But he certainly wasn’t complaining. 


	23. Day 23: Father Christmas/Santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale reluctantly reprises his role as Santa, and Crowley makes a confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

A pair of celestial husbands practically fell through the front door of their cottage, one exhausted from a day’s hard work, the other from a day’s hard hysterical laughter. 

“Oh  _ honestly _ , darling," Aziraphale grumbled, tossing his hat aside and pushing his fingers through his slightly-damp curls. "Certainly the humor of the situation must wear off  _ eventually _ ?"

Crowley was an absolute mess of snickers and giggles, his cheeks pink and his eyes wet with barely contained tears of mirth. He practically  _ danced _ as he divested himself of his outerwear. "It really doesn't, angel," he guffawed merrily. "I thought it would, but it just doesn't!"

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, stomping off toward the kitchen to find himself a stiff drink. 

When the angel had gotten roped into playing a shopping mall Santa Claus the previous year, he had fully expected that it would be a one-time circumstance that he would never be so unfortunate as to repeat. And yet...somehow or other, the manager of that very same mall had managed to track Aziraphale down and practically  _ begged _ him to return. He had even cited Aziraphale as having been the "absolute finest Santa this mall has ever had". It had been all but impossible for the angel to refuse. 

With a double whiskey-and-ice in his hand and his bow tie pulled loose around his neck, Aziraphale collapsed into his favorite armchair and sighed a heavy smile. He was beyond fatigue, both physically and emotionally. He felt sweaty, sticky, and suspected that he also smelled, but he simply didn't have it in him to deal with all that just yet. Twelve straight hours of children crawling all over him, pulling at him, asking him questions, making requests, making  _ demands _ …it had all been far, far too much for the angel. It was possibly understandable, therefore, that it took him a few long moments to realize that all was silent.

Aziraphale’s eyes had fallen closed, but now he opened them and turned his head to find Crowley watching him quietly from the doorway. He looked fond, affectionate...and a bit sheepish, which caused the angel to narrow his eyes into a sharp glare. 

Crowley swallowed, shuffled his feet a bit, and finally wandered forward with a sigh on his lips. "Okay, sooooo, confession time," he said slowly, drawing out the syllables. "I, uh...I  _ may _ have been the one who put the mall manager on to how to contact you." He punctuated the admission with an apologetic smile, as though he thought his charm and good looks could get him out of any retribution. 

Aziraphale, for his part, only glared daggers of pure malice for a few rage-fueled moments before taking a long, deep breath and letting it out slowly while keeping his gaze locked on his traitorous demon. " _ Why _ ," he demanded, "would you do that, knowing full well how exhausting it was for me last year?"

Crowley seemed to consider his words carefully (a smart move), while gnawing on his lip and staring down at his feet. The longer he considered the more frustrated Aziraphale got, until the knackered angel felt he might overflow with it, consequences be damned.

Then Crowley finally spoke. 

"It's just...seeing you doing it last year… You're just so  _ good _ at it, angel. There are so many humans out there who totally phone it in, who couldn't care less about the kids. But you…" Golden eyes roamed the floor, flicking about as though scared to look up and meet his fate. "Angel, you  _ care _ . Even when the kids are being right pains in the arse, you care about keeping the magic alive and making the experience special for them. It's honestly a sight to behold and I...I guess I just wanted to see it again. I know I laugh and tease and make fun, but seeing you push through, seeing the way your eyes light up when you know you've made some kid's Christmas amazing...it makes me so proud that someone as amazing as you chose me…"

There was a brief silence, during which Aziraphale felt himself melt, his chest tight. It was a few more moments before he felt capable of speech, but when he thought he was, he placed down his glass, patted his knee, and said, "Come here, darling."

Crowley did, shuffling forward with his eyes still downcast, until he was standing before his angel. Aziraphale reached up and took both of his demon’s hands, pulling him down onto his lap and into a soft, light kiss. 

“Do you really mean that, dearest?” the angel asked, voice tight. 

Crowley simply nodded, nuzzling his nose against Aziraphale’s cheek. 

“Well...I suppose that’s alright then.”

Crowley looked up from where he’d begun toying with the loose ends of Aziraphale’s bow tie. His eyes were filled with love, and perhaps just a tiny hint of mischievousness. “So does this mean that I’m off your naughty list?” he asked with a little smirk. 

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, but his lips curled into a sinful little smile. “Oh, for now, my love...but I expect you’ll be back on it by the end of the night.”


	24. Day 24: Sleigh Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley thinks Aziraphale is actually kinda kinky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

The little gold bells jingled as Aziraphale lifted the object in his hands. 

Crowley swallowed and worked very hard to keep his face expressionless. "You know, angel," he said with a slight chuckle, "If anyone had told me a year ago that you'd turn out to be this kinky, I'd have laughed in their face." He laughed now, but anyone who knew him as well as Aziraphale knew him would easily be able to pick up on the note of anxiety. 

The angel's expression softened and his hands lowered. "Darling, you know I always encourage you to express your concerns when it comes to anything we do in-"

" _ Green _ , angel," the demon interrupted, cheeks flushing as he flapped a hand in Aziraphale’s direction. "I'm definitely green. Just...surprised is all." He cleared his throat and bit his lip, failing to hide his nervous excitement. 

Aziraphale’s grin was incandescent. "Lovely," he purred, advancing upon his husband. 

The angel worked slowly and methodically, driving the demon mad with arousal (though he wouldn't have it any other way). Aziraphale removed Crowley's clothing piece by piece, sliding the fabric deliberately against every erogonous zone, pressing warm, wet kisses to every bit of bared skin. By the time the demon was completely nude, kneeling obediently in the center of the bed, he was hard and aching. When Aziraphale lifted the bells again Crowley felt his cock twitch in confused interest. 

They were sleigh bells. Shiny golden globes sewn to silky red strips of satin. The satin looped through a series of buckles, designed to be fitted around a carriage horse's neck and flank. Aziraphale stroked these buckles now, as his gaze roamed all over his lover's body with a hunger that made Crowley shudder in anticipation. 

Aziraphale ran his fingers through Crowley's hair, drawing a low, deep sigh from the demon before slipping the collar loop over his head. Crowley sucked in a sharp breath as the buckles tightened. The angel paused in his movements, and in response the demon immediately gasped, " _ Green _ , angel…"

Aziraphale hesitated only a moment longer before continuing on. He pressed a steady hand between Crowley's shoulder blades, guiding him down onto his hands and knees in order to run the bells over the demon's back and down his sides to wrap around his thighs. 

Only when Crowley was perfectly trussed up did Aziraphale finally take a step back and begin removing his own kit. Even now, he moved slowly and deliberately, driving the demon spare as his need grew. By the time the angel was down to his pants Crowley was biting his lip hard to keep himself from begging. He knew, however, that Aziraphale would be able to see the desperation in his blown-wide eyes. 

Finally,  _ finally _ , Aziraphale was kneeling down onto the bed, his cock hanging heavy between his legs as he ran the tips of his fingers across Crowley's shoulder blades. The demon shivered and whimpered.

"There, there, my darling," the angel spoke slowly, his voice husky. "What a good boy you're being for me…"

Crowley bit his lip harder and tasted blood, but he still couldn't stop the keen that worked up out of him. Still, he held his head high, kept himself still and steady, wanting nothing more than to earn more of his angel's praise. He was rewarded when Aziraphale ran a hand through his hair again, more firmly this time. The sensation was delicious, but Crowley couldn't help but whine for more. 

Luckily, his need seemed to please Aziraphale. "Oh, my sweet boy…" the angel purred. "Such a good boy...so lovely for me, so prim and proper." He leaned in close, drawing an arm over the demon's back and speaking with hot breath against Crowley's neck. "Would you like a reward for being so good for me, my love?"

Crowley nodded enthusiastically, causing the bells around his neck to jingle merrily. Aziraphale chuckled at the sound before pressing a bruising kiss to the demon's throat. When he pulled away - to the sound of another whimper from Crowley - he ran his tongue up to the demon's earlobe, which earned a quick nip of teeth. "What do you want, my love?" he grumbled low in his throat. "Tell me how you want this to go, dearest…"

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut tight, his body shivering all over at the sensation of the angel’s breath against his skin. He didn't intend to whimper again when he spoke, but he could hear the waver in his voice as the words fell from him: "F-fuck me...please angel...fuck me hard and fast... _ use  _ me…"

He could hear the way Aziraphale's breathing increased, could feel the way the angel’s fingers pressed a little more firmly into his flesh. 

"Of course, dearest...it would be my pleasure."

A snap of angelic fingers had the demon prepared in a moment, and thankfully so because in the next moment the angel was behind him, lining himself up, and thrusting in to the hilt in a single sharp motion. Crowley cried out in pleasure, the breath caught in his throat, as Aziraphale immediately set a punishing pace that struck the demon's prostate with every thrust. His encouraging cries mingled with the ringing of the bells as his body shook and shuddered. One of Aziraphale’s hands wrapped around Crowley's hip, tight enough to bruise, while the other fisted in the demon's hair, tight enough to sting just that perfect amount. The angel's hips snapped forward and back over and over, filling Crowley so well, stretching him perfectly,  _ using  _ him exactly as he'd wanted. 

Given a bit of time he was certain the onslaught on his prostate would have driven him over the edge all on its own, but all the same he felt a thrill of elation when he heard Aziraphale speak from behind him: "Touch yourself for me, love."

He did, balancing himself on one forearm in order to reach down and set a desperate, jerky pace, nearly sobbing at the touch of his own hand on his throbbing cock. He stroked erratically, matching the inconsistent, random jangling of the sleigh bells, until-

Crowley came with a howl, clenching tight around his angel, dragging Aziraphale to completion behind him. He felt hot all over, sticky and wet and gasping for breath as his angel wrapped around him drawing them both down to their sides on a pile of pillows that hadn't been there a moment earlier. Aziraphale kept thrusting, more and more slowly and gently as the moments dragged on, until Crowley began to shudder and moan from overstimulation. 

"Was that what you wanted, darling?" the angel breathed against Crowley's ear, a smile in his voice. 

The demon couldn't help but smile too, although it was a sleepy one. "S'pect it was what you wanted too, kinky angel…"

Aziraphale chuckled at that. "Should we keep the bells then?" he teased, happily. 

" _ FUCK  _ yes."


	25. Day 25: Presents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angel and a demon exchange tokens of their history together for Christmas. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

Aziraphale was positively beaming with excitement, and there was no doubt that Crowley felt similar. The demon was grinning like a fool, practically vibrating as he pulled the two red satin stocking from their hooks on the mantle. He brought them both to the sofa where the angel had already settled in with a fuzzy blanket, which he lifted to allow his husband to partake of. 

"Ready, angel?" Crowley asked as he handed over one of the stockings. 

"As I'll ever be, darling," Aziraphale replied, wiggling happily. 

It was an idea they had come up with while drinking one night (who, exactly, had suggested it first was a mystery lost to inebriation) and had been quite excited for ever since. They had thought it might be fun to use their stockings as something of a pair of time capsules, gifting one another little tokens to represent their pasts together. They had both been quite enthusiastic and secretive as they chose their items, and now, at last, it was time to share their little intimate presents. Aziraphale was over the moon about it. 

"You go first, dearest," the angel insisted, glowing with love. 

For a moment Crowley looked as though he might argue and toss the ball back into Aziraphale’s court, but instead he grinned and nodded, thrusting his hand into his stocking. He pulled out a small parcel wrapped in crimson paper and admired it for a brief moment before tearing it open enthusiastically. Inside was a tarnished silver pin-and-ring brooch patterned like a snake. Crowley's eyes widened as his fingertips brushed over its surface. 

"It's the same one you wore in Rome," Aziraphale admitted with a soft flush. "I, um...I may have swiped it…"

Crowley looked positively  _ delighted _ . "I  _ knew _ I couldn't have just dropped it that night!" he laughed, eyes shining. "But why?"

Aziraphale’s cheeks were warm, but he returned the demon's smile. "That night was the first that we spent properly spending time together, as friends. We laughed and argued and had such a wonderful time, and though everything that I knew at the time told me that we shouldn't have done it, I wanted to remember that night as one of the best of my life to that point...so I sneaked it from your shoulder when you stumbled in that alley."

Crowley's gaze had softened, even as his fingers tightened around the brooch. "That  _ was _ a great night…" he agreed, before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "Thank you, angel."

Aziraphale's eyes twinkled. He reached into his own stocking and withdrew an oblong parcel wrapped in shining gold. Handling it as though it was precious and delicate, he peeled back the wrapping and let out a little gasp of surprise when he revealed a tall, thin clay pitcher. He recognized it immediately, free hand going to his mouth as he remembered. 

"You found me," Crowley spoke slowly, voice quiet. "Stowed away in the depths of the ark with all the children I'd been able to save… I was certain you would cast us out, that you would uphold God's plan no matter what. Instead you miracled food and a pitcher that would never run out of clean, cool water, and helped ensure we weren't found." The demon's eyes were shining like molten gold. "That was the moment I knew that you were the only angel in all of Heaven worth a damn."

Aziraphale’s hand had dropped from his mouth to his chest, and his eyes were a little wet. "Oh darling...and you kept this all this time?"

Crowley nodded, and now his cheeks were flushed too. To avoid further embarrassment he turned his attention back to his stocking and pulled out another parcel. This one was wrapped in black with a little silver bow. He was a bit calmer unwrapping this one, though the curiosity in his eyes was no less intense. With a few careful tears he revealed a small glass frame, and beneath the glass was pressed a dried red flower. It sparked a recognition, but its significance didn't click in until Aziraphale began to speak. 

"You brought flowers and chocolates," the angel reminded him, smiling. "The other angels have never shown anything other than disdain and disparagement for my decision to open a bookshop, but you were always encouraging and supportive. When you brought gifts to my opening day, it showed me how much you genuinely care about the things that make me happy. I nearly kissed you that day, if I'm being honest."

Crowley lifted an eyebrow and smirked. "Should've, you old fool. We could've been fucking so much sooner!"

Aziraphale scoffed and smacked his husband on the arm, but he chuckled. " _ Bad _ demon," he scolded playfully. 

The angel withdrew another gift from his stocking. It was wrapped in a white as soft as clouds. Peeling away the paper unveiled a small wooden box which, upon opening, displayed a length of red ribbon, faded with time. Aziraphale's breath caught in his throat at the sight of it and his gaze quickly lifted to meet that of his sentimental demon. 

"I slept for nearly an entire century," Crowley said with a sigh. “And when I finally woke I expected to find a world in which you were still angry with me over a stupid misunderstanding. I stumbled to the loo assuming that the most important person in my existence was still outside of my reach, and then I glanced in the mirror…” The demon’s hand lifted, unconsciously, to the long hair that currently hung loose and wavy around his shoulders. “My hair had grown so long and wild...and it was carefully tied back in a red ribbon that couldn’t have been there more than a few weeks. It had your angelic signature on it...and with that one little strip of fabric I knew that everything was going to be okay.”

There were a few moments of silence while Aziraphale pulled himself together. He managed a breathy, “I missed you so, my love,” before his voice cracked and he had to stop again to breathe. He closed his eyes for a moment, forcing himself to take a few slow, calming breaths. Then he opened them again, gnawed his lip for a moment, and reached into his stocking to pull out the third and final present. This one was wrapped in a small velvet bag of brightest gold, tied with a single white ribbon. With gently trembling hands he pulled the ribbon and drew open the bag. He reached inside and, very delicately, withdrew a pristine white feather that he immediately recognized. His eyes went wide with shock. 

When Crowley spoke his voice was very quiet, very soft, and quavered just a bit. “I picked it up after our first meeting on the Wall. It fell into the Garden and I…” He paused for only a moment, but in that moment Aziraphale looked up, eyes as wide as a new moon and blue as the sky the morning after a storm. 

“Crowley, my love,” he gasped, breathless. “Open your last gift, please.”

The demon floundered a moment, mouth opening and closing in confusion at the interruption of his memory. After that moment, though, he obeyed, pulling a shiny ebony bag from his stocking. With growing suspicions and anxious fingers that slipped on the deep red tie, he pulled open the bag and pulled from within it a feather as black as night. He stared at it for a long, quiet moment, before looking up to meet his husband’s wide-eyed gaze. 

“I picked it up from the Wall’s surface…” Aziraphale whispered, amazed and adoring. “It fell from your wing when you left after our first meeting…” 

Crowley swallowed, throat suddenly quite dry. His pupils had blown, nearly devouring the molten gold. “I was drawn to it...the way I was drawn to you…” he said. 

Aziraphale’s free hand fisted against his thigh. “I could feel your essence on it...so comfortingly enticing, just as your presence had been…”

“I felt so stupid, but it something deep in me told me to take it, to keep it…”

“It was ludicrous, that a demon’s feather should feel so warm and soothing…”

“It had this aura unlike anything I’d felt since Heaven…”

“...a sense of belonging, of a deep closeness…”

“...like coming home, a connection that couldn’t be defined…”

“...it felt like…”

“...it felt like…”

They had come together, their stockings and the items from within lain across their laps, the two feathers held between them. They had eyes only for one another, and had they been paying enough attention to notice they would have found that their heartbeats had synchronized in a flustered, wondering flutter. When next they spoke it was with one voice, full of breathless awe: “It felt like  _ love _ .”

Some time later, entirely uncertain of how they’d gotten there, Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves wrapped up in one another’s arms, laying on a sofa that had kindly expanded and produced a number of cushions to support their comfort. Their precious items had somehow found their way safely to the coffee table. Crowley’s arms were wrapped tight around Aziraphale’s middle, and the angel’s fingers were carding tenderly through the demon’s hair. 

“What fools we were for so long, my love,” Aziraphale sighed as he pressed a soft kiss to his husband’s forehead. 

Crowley made a humming sound of agreement, but he was also smiling while nuzzling closer into his angel’s shoulder. “What matters is that we got there in the end, angel,” he purred. 

“True,” Aziraphale agreed, and squeezed his darling a little closer. “Happy Christmas, my dearest love.”

“Happy Christmas, my perfect angel.”


	26. Day 26: Boxing Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley makes a suggestion that Aziraphale rather likes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

“Why ‘Boxing’ Day?”

Aziraphale looked up from the book he’d been flipping through in bed to find a sleep-eyed Crowley looking back at him from his pillow. His golden eyes were glassy, as though he were still half within a dream. A few strands of fiery red hair fell across his face. Aziraphale smiled affectionately at the sight. 

“Finally awake, dearest?” the angel hummed. He turned to place his book on his bedside table before turning back to his demon and wriggling down beneath the sheets to wrap his arms around his half-awake husband. “What were you saying, love?”

Crowley made a sound that was quite a lot like a purr, pressing himself happily against his husband’s chest and nuzzling the tip of his nose against Aziraphale’s cheek. “Mmmm…” he sighed, smiling. “Was just wonderin’ why they call it ‘Boxing Day’.”

Aziraphale took a moment to breathe deeply through his nose, simply enjoying the scent of his husband’s hair on this quiet, lazy Boxing Day morning. The aroma had become something of an addiction to the angel in the past year; he didn’t think that he would ever get enough of it. After a short indulgence he hummed in thought and did his best to respond to Crowley’s inquiry. “If I recall correctly, it used to be a day for the rich to offer presents to the poor,” he explained. “Those who were well off would ‘box up’ gifts and hand them out to servants and other less affluent neighbors. Thus it was a day of ‘boxing’.”

Crowley was quiet for a short time while he considered this. His hands wandered while he thought, trailing light paths up and down his angel’s side. Aziraphale gave a few little, pleased shudders at the touch. In recent months he had taken to wearing less and less clothing to bed for the expressed purpose of encouraging his husband’s touch. Last night he’d worn only a baggy blue tee and a matching pair of pants, a scandalous lack of material that had delighted his demon. 

“S’at somethin’ you’d like to do?” 

Aziraphale had drifted off a bit, simply enjoying Crowley’s touches. Now he opened his eyes and leaned back just far enough to be able to look his husband in the eye. “What was that, dearest?” he asked.

Crowley’s gaze was averted, and he had a slight frown pulling at his lips that looked somewhat forced. He was trying, Aziraphale realized, to look nonchalant and unconcerned. He was also, the angel thought with a mental smirk, failing miserably. 

“Th’ whole ‘boxing’ stuff for the poor thing,” the demon grumbled. “Is...is that maybe somethin’ you’d like to do?” He cleared his throat and lowered his gaze, though he was still looking more at Aziraphale’s chest than his face. “We dun’ have anything else planned for t’day…”

Crowley trailed off and Aziraphale stared at him with open fondness until the demon finally cracked and met his husband’s eye. Whatever he saw there made Crowley blink rapidly and flush a soft pink. 

“You really are such a terribly  _ nice _ demon, my love,” the angel teased with a grin. 

Crowley’s response was a hiss and a growl of, “M’  _ not _ nice!” but there was absolutely no bite to it, and he damn-well knew it. With what he would certainly deny was a pout, the demon huffed, “Jus’ thought  _ you _ might want to, is all. No need to go makin’ baseless accusa-mmf!”

Aziraphale silenced his husband with a fierce, possessive kiss. He wove his fingers up into Crowley’s hair, fisting a handful of red waves and giving them a little tug that drew a soft whimper from the demon. The angel pressed the tip of his tongue insistently against his demon’s lips, entreating entrance and making Crowley groan. With their bodies as close together as they currently were, Aziraphale could feel the first stirrings of his husband’s arousal beginning to press against his leg, and he rolled his hip into it, smiling through the kiss. When, eventually, the angel drew back with a soft sigh, Crowley’s eyes were hazy with lustful surprise. 

“Wha’ wazzat for?” the demon breathed through deliciously kiss-swollen lips. 

By way of response Aziraphale grinned and pressed a quick peck of a kiss to the tip of his husband’s nose. “I think that bringing back the old traditions of Boxing Day is a lovely idea, my darling. But before we get out of bed and get to work, I would like very much to make passionate love to you until you can scarcely  _ think _ , if you would be quite amenable.”

Crowley’s pupils blew wide and the tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips. 

Aziraphale grinned. “Well, dearest?”

Crowley nodded enthusiastically. “Y-yes please,” he stammered.

Aziraphale drew them together for another sweet kiss, and grinned. “That’s what I thought, love.”


	27. Day 27: Regency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale host a Regency-themed night with the Them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

“I’m not gonna lie. I feel bloody fabulous.”

The rest of the Them laughed goodnaturedly as their leader, Adam, did a fancy twirl that caused the skirts of his dress to flutter out around him like flower petals. If it weren’t for the pair of white Adidas socks sticking out from underneath as he spun, he could have looked right at home at a proper Regency-era Christmas party. 

Brian, on the other hand, was all knees and elbows - having recently grown about a foot - and looked a bit like a gangly lamp-post draped in strips of shiny fabric. Ever full of good cheer, though, the tallest of the boys struck a pose with his hip cocked to one side and grinned more widely than a pageant competitor. He threw an arm around Wensleydale and pulled him close so that they were both visible in the full-length mirror Crowley had conjured. The smaller boy was flushed pink, but seemed quietly pleased with the way his slight frame looked in the dress that had been provided to him. 

“Now let’s be honest here, boys,” said Crowley from the sofa, where he sat with his legs gracefully crossed beneath his own long, particularly fancy Regency gown. “We all know who the most fabulous one here is.” The demon lifted his glass of brandy to his lips with a regal air, only to choke and sputter on his drink when three voices responded with, “Well, Aziraphale, of course!”

The angel, chuckling pleasantly, swept by to offer his husband a handkerchief before turning to the last of the group of four children they were currently hosting. “And what about you, my dear?” he asked. “What do you think of your costume?”

Pepper had been frowning, eyes narrowed in something like concentration as she stared at herself in the mirror, but at Aziraphale’s voice she finally broke into an enormous grin. Her fingers ran down the lapels of her fancy suit jacket, and she popped up on the tips of her toes to better admire her snug britches and high boots. “They’re just what I would have wanted,” she announced and, turning to her friends, tipped her top-hat. “Ladies,” she smirked at them, and they smirked right back before all four burst into happy giggles. 

Aziraphale carefully brushed his hands along the soft fabric of his own skirts while sending a pleased smile toward his husband. It had been Crowley’s idea to host a Regency-style party with the children for their holiday get-together, and clearly the costumes were a particular hit. The angel swept to his husband’s side and sat down with a flourish and a happy sigh of, “They’re rather a darling lot, aren’t they?”

"Darling little devils, indeed," Crowley agreed with a low chuckle. Then he banished his glass to a side table and slithered gracefully to his feet, clapping his hands together loudly. “Okay, my well-dressed monsters, who’s for a period-appropriate party game?”

Aziraphale tried his best to hide his smile as the children hooted and hollered. He already knew the game Crowley had in mind and was quite interested to see what the Them would think of it. 

“The name of the game is ‘Snap Dragon’,” the demon announced with a flourish as he produced a large, shallow bowl from behind the sofa. With an outstretched arm he gestured to his angel for assistance, handing over the bowl to Aziraphale when he stood to comply. “The  _ goal _ ,” Crowley continued, “is to pluck treats from the bowl and eat them.” As he explained he magically produced a bag of nuts and raisins, which he poured into the bowl Aziraphale held. 

The children were already lifting eyebrows, clearly wondering how Crowley’s instructions constituted a  _ game _ , but their eyes went wide with surprise and glee when the next object the demon produced was a bottle of brandy. Grinning broadly, and with a mischievous glint in his golden eyes, Crowley poured a generous portion of the liquor atop the bowl of treats before snapping his fingers like a true showman. The concoction immediately burst into beautiful blue licks of flame, which subsequently caused the children to burst into delighted shouts of awe. 

From his place behind the bowl, Aziraphale could no longer help but smile. 

“Go on then,” said Crowley, gesturing with a hint of playful competitiveness. “Everyone have a go.”

So they did, rolling up the sleeves of their fancy clothes and giggling with amusement at each other’s first tentative attempts. Pepper was the bravest, reaching in with both hands at once, but Adam and Brian were quicker, hands darting in and out of the flames like striking snakes. Wensleydale approached the problem with a mathematical mind, looking for the spots with the smallest flames or the largest - and thus easiest to grab - groupings of the treats. Unsurprisingly, Brian was the first to claim a hot raisin and pop it in his mouth, to which they all cheered uproariously before diving back in for more. 

Aziraphale watched and waited, patiently holding out the bowl for the children, knowing that eventually one of them would ask…

“Aren’t you going to try, Mr Crowley?” posited Wensleydale once he’d successfully eaten two nuts and a raisin. 

Crowley, as expected, shrugged with calm nonchalance and moved toward the bowl. “Yeah, sure,” he said simply, as though it had never occurred to him to actually take part in the game.

It was all the more amusing, then, when he put his hand into the bowl with exaggerated slowness, letting it sit there among the flames while he casually flicked through the remaining treats to pick out the ones he wanted. The children gasped in alarm (Aziraphale thought he heard Pepper mutter an expletive under her breath) and stared, wide-eyed, for several moments before Adam finally caught on and burst into laughter. 

“You  _ cheater _ !” he accused between guffaws, which elicited a wide, pleased grin from Crowley. “You didn’t tell us demons don’t burn!”

Having been caught out, Crowley scooped the remaining treats into his hand and lifted it high, tilting his head back to drop the pieces in one by one while the giggling, screeching children surrounded him, leaping up to try and slap the goodies from his fingers. 

Aziraphale extinguished the bowl with a snap of his fingers and stood back to watch the scene with a soft, fond smile on his face. He watched as the children jumped and swiped, squealing with joy, and he watched Crowley tease and torment, producing a huge bag of treats and holding it high over his head where they couldn’t reach. He watched while his demon slowly succumbed, pretending that the eight arms clawing at him were too much for him to handle. He watched as the children ultimately pulled Crowley to the ground, pinning him under a pile of elated giggles as they pulled the bag of treats from his hand and dug in with enthusiasm.

Aziraphale watched, and he smiled, and his heart felt too big for his chest because somehow,  _ somehow _ , this beautiful, clever, sweetheart of a demon was  _ his _ . 

And wasn’t that just the definition of happiness?


	28. Day 28: Snowman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale finds Crowley building a very familiar-looking snowman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

Crowley was missing again. 

It was becoming a bit of a habit, actually, if Aziraphale said so himself. Not that he needed to keep tabs on his husband at all times, but for a demon who was surprisingly clingy and enjoyed cuddling so much, it was a bit funny that Crowley had taken to vanishing from the cottage at random times of day of late. 

The angel wandered through their home for several minutes before finally peeking his head out the back door to glance toward the greenhouse. He saw no signs of the demon within the glass walls, but he  _ did _ hear a faint snickering coming from somewhere beyond the perimeter of the garden. With a hint of a smile on his lips and a healthy dose of curiosity, Aziraphale snapped his fingers to retrieve his coat, hat, scarf, and gloves, and set off through the snow in search of his sneaky snake of a husband. 

He trod slowly and as silently as he could, hoping to get a peek at whatever Crowley was giggling to himself about before the demon saw him. And he was ever so pleased that he did, because what he found just past the rose bushes and around the side of the gazebo was far too adorable for words. 

Crowley, bundled in as many layers as he could manage, was in the process of building a snowman. Or, perhaps snow  _ celestial being  _ would have been more accurate. The figure had the traditional three round layers, with the middle layer being possibly a bit more rotund than was traditional. Little bronze coins had been poked into the snow all the way down the body in a representation of buttons, with a smaller line of them falling in a loop along one side to look like the chain of a pocket watch. Two especially large blueberries were stand-ins for the being’s eyes, with a few winterberries creating the happy curve of a small mouth. Around the snow-being’s neck, instead of the usual scarf, was a lovely tartan bow tie. 

It was really all that Aziraphale could do not to burst into delighted laughter. Instead, he fixed his face into a rather stern glare, stepped out from beyond the bushes, and crossed his arms. “Is that meant to be me?” he groused with a frown. 

Crowley whipped around so fast that his glasses fell down his nose, revealing wide, surprised eyes shining with a mixture of confusion and guilt. “It, uh- I just- I mean-” The stammered exclamation of words quickly devolved into a squeaking stream of consciousness that could barely be described as language. 

Aziraphale tried, he really did, but the entire scene was just so... _ sweet _ , that he couldn’t hold up the facade for more than a few more seconds before his face broke out into a wide, irrepressible grin. “Oh  _ darling _ ,” he gushed, sweeping forward to snatch his demon’s scarf and pull them together. “It’s rather a good likeness, isn’t it?” He pressed a quick kiss to Crowley’s lips before pulling back and turning to admire the effigy, leaving the demon flushed and embarrassed (and perhaps still a bit confused). “Oh, but he needs a husband! Come, Crowley, let’s set this to rights, shall we?”

If Crowley  _ was _ still confused, it rather quickly melted away into fond playfulness as he joined Aziraphale in the rolling of three more large snowballs. They laughed and snickered, and paused several times for a series of kisses that were no doubt quite necessary to the process, and some time later they were done. Next to the original snow-being there was now another, skinnier than a snow-being had any right to be, with a skinny grey scarf around his neck and a pair of black sunglasses pressed onto his face. 

Aziraphale stepped back to admire their work and found himself wrapped up in two deceptively sturdy arms, which squeezed him tight. “Thought it would make a funny surprise,” Crowley belatedly explained over his husband’s shoulder. “But this way was much better.” 

The angel hummed and tilted his head so that their cheeks pressed together. “I think they shall be very happy together,” he announced with a little chuckle, smiling at their snow-mirrors. 

“Oh, I’ve no doubt, angel,” replied the grinning demon. “I’ve no doubt at all.”


	29. Day 29: Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale get a group of unexpected visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

There had been a weird feeling in the air all day. Aziraphale had actually woken early that morning because of it. A kind of...buzz. The discomforting, itchy feeling of being watched or followed. The angel tried not to think too hard on it. Their home had many wards placed upon it, worked into the land surrounding it. If anyone intended to approach with malice in their hearts or minds, he and Crowley would know it. 

That didn’t make the feeling any less curious. 

Crowley felt it too, Aziraphale knew. He could tell by the way the demon’s smiles were a little forced, and by the way his husband stuck very close to him all day, golden eyes subtly scanning their surroundings at all times.

When it finally happened, they were outside, on their way to the greenhouse to pluck a few ripe vegetables for the dinner Crowley planned to make. They were halfway between the cottage and the greenhouse, when a brilliant flash of light briefly overtook the soft light of the setting sun. Aziraphale’s stance stiffened, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed. Crowley fell into a position that clearly communicated his readiness to fight; knees bent, fingers flexing, teeth bared in a growl. One of the demon’s hands snaked back to link with his husband’s. Aziraphale gave it a firm squeeze. Whatever this was, they would face it together.

What it was, was a group of five angels, each of them fair and lovely to look at, each an unmistakable threat in the eyes of a demon who wanted only to be left alone with the love of his life. We can, therefore, forgive Crowley for immediately going on the offense, as he attempted to protect  _ his _ angel at all costs. 

We  _ can _ forgive him for this, but we may also be justifiably relieved that Aziraphale was quick to see the nervous, non-violent glow of the five angels’ auras, prompting him to lunge forward and pull his husband back to him, holding his hand tight. 

“What do you want?” Aziraphale asked, his voice equal parts firm and gentle. From the corner of his eye he saw Crowley glance his way, and felt the demon return the squeeze of their joined hands, trusting him.

The five angels - and they were all rather  _ young _ angels, Aziraphale realized - shuffled in place, casting glances at one another and muttering under their breath until, finally, the smallest of them took a cautious step forward. He was a tiny thing, quite delicate-looking, but both Crowley and Aziraphale knew that looks could be very deceiving, and so they remained vigilant. 

“We, um...that is-” the little angel began, sputtering and clearing his throat and glancing back at his companions for help. Then he reached beneath his lovely white robes and withdrew a small box, wrapped in shining silver paper. “We...we have a Christmas present for you.”

To their credit, Crowley and Aziraphale only stared in shock for a few long moments before shaking themselves. 

“You-? I’m sorry, what?” Crowley nearly choked.

The little angel flushed a bright, pretty pink and couldn’t seem to find the words, so one of his companions stepped forward. She was much larger than him, tall and elegant, and clearly attempting to exude a confidence that she didn’t feel. “We know we’re a few days late,” she explained, as though this was somehow the shocking part of the situation, “but we couldn’t decide what to give you, you see.”

“And we were worried about just popping in on you,” added another angel, one with long hair obscuring part of their face. “We didn’t know if you might…” They waved a hand in a vague gesture that clearly indicated the way Crowley had nearly attacked. 

Aziraphale shook his head, trying to piece together the conversation in a way that made any kind of sense. “I’m sorry, you...you five brought  _ us _ ...a present?” A literal pink elephant couldn’t have distracted from the obvious incredulity in his voice. 

The fourth and fifth remaining angels, blond-haired, green-eyed twins, stepped forward together, flanking their companions on either side to bring the group back to a whole. “We wanted to show our appreciation,” said one. “For stopping the War,” said the other. “We know we  _ should _ be angry with you for making a mess of the ‘Great Plan’,” said the first. “But we wanted you to know that not all angels believed in the War, and we’re so grateful that you stopped it,” said the second. 

Crowley and Aziraphale glanced at one another, both wide-eyed, working hard to come to terms with this information. Crowley, likely just desperate for something to say, sputtered out, “Ny-yeahhh, we actually didn’t...do all  _ that _ much, really…”

But the five young angels would hear none of it. They all spoke at once, like a flock of schoolchildren, all spouting variations of, “Oh but you did!” and “You’re really our heroes!”

In the end, Aziraphale lifted a hand to request silence and received it immediately, five chattering mouths snapping shut all at once. He’d felt the genuine nature of adoration that radiated from the small group of celestial beings and knew, despite any natural inclination to doubt, that there was no malice in them. They truly did... _ love _ the two husbands. 

Not knowing what to say, Aziraphale offered his hand and waited while the smallest angel scooted carefully forward to reach out and place the silver box atop it. It wasn’t very heavy, and it rattled a bit when it moved. Aziraphale considered it carefully before looking up to meet Crowley’s gaze with a smile. “Shall we then, darling?” 

Crowley looked less convinced, frowning, but gave a small nod, trusting his husband’s judgement. Together they carefully tore away strips of silver paper, until they were able to lift the top from the small box and reveal the strange treasure beneath… Seeds. The box was separated into several small compartments, each filled with a small handful of various seeds. 

The angels must have understood the confusion on the husband’s faces because the tall one spoke up, clearing her throat. “They’re...they’re seeds from the Garden. We’re not sure exactly which ones are which plants, but…”

“We thought you would appreciate them,” said one of the twins. “Since they come from the place where you two first met,” said the other. 

The angel with the long, obscuring hair spoke up, adding, “We saw your beautiful garden here and thought that maybe you could make some of those original plants grow again.”

Crowley made a little sound in the back of his throat that Aziraphale dutifully pretended he hadn’t. Aziraphale himself felt that he was getting rather more than a bit choked up. “Thank you so much, my dears…” he said, voice soft and quiet. When he looked up, all five young angels were grinning broadly, evidently understanding at least a bit of what the looks on the two husband’s faces meant. 

“Would you…” Aziraphale began, then bit his lip and glanced sideways at his demon. 

The demon in question had definitely been shaken, and was certainly going to be shocked at himself later that night, because he immediately caught on to what his husband had been about to propose and made no qualms about finishing the sentence. “Would you all like to come in for a drink?”

The angels looked shocked, then delighted, then uncharacteristically humbled as they shyly nodded and offered their thanks. 

_ Will wonders never cease _ , thought Aziraphale as he and his husband led the gaggle into their home, their sanctuary.  _ If this isn’t a Christmas miracle, I don’t know what is. _


	30. Day 30: Free Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale relays to Crowley an interesting conversation he had with his book club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

The book club had been Crowley’s idea. 

Surprising, perhaps, given the demon’s insistence that he didn’t read, but the most important being in Crowley’s life  _ did _ read, and that was what mattered.

(Mind you, the demon had only attended the first few meetings, hanging on just long enough for Aziraphale to feel comfortable with the group they’d gathered, because dear  _ Satan _ those meetings were boring as all get-out.)

The suggestion had been born when it occurred to Crowley that, despite his habit of selling as little as humanly possible, his angel was missing the daily running of his bookshop. From that realization it was only a hop, skip, and a jump to come to the conclusion that what Aziraphale was really missing was discussing his beloved books with like-minded bibliophiles. Thus, the book club was born. Eventually it had grown to a dozen participants from around the area, who each took it in turns to host discussion nights, which often involved as much food and drinking as it did book discussion. 

Tonight was Aziraphale’s night to host, and as had become his tradition whenever the cottage filled with chattering, boozing, bookworm humans, Crowley had excused himself to his greenhouse to relax in silence. 

Several hours went by. The demon worked leisurely, repotting a few plants, plucking some ripe fruit, and indulging in a bit of a yell at a few newcomers who weren’t pulling their weight. It was well past eleven when he heard the greenhouse’s door open, signalling his angel’s arrival and thus the end of this particular club night. 

“Good discussion tonight, angel?” Crowley asked without looking up, his hands buried to the wrists in potting soil.

“You might say that,” came the response, followed by a little giggle.

Crowley lifted an eyebrow and glanced over his shoulder. Aziraphale was leaning against the closed door, his hands behind his back, nibbling at his lip and losing a fight with a grin. The sight was more than a little intriguing, the demon had to admit. “Care to elaborate?” he asked with a smirk. 

When Aziraphale pushed off from the door and began to wiggle forward it was easy to see that he’d been well into his cups during this particular meeting and hadn’t yet bothered to sober up. He swayed as he walked, and his cheeks were a healthy pink. “Oh, you know…” he drawled, continuing to lose the fight with his face, which insisted on grinning. “There were a few... _ naughty  _ scenes in the book we were discussing tonight, you know?”

Crowley  _ did _ know, because Aziraphale had already told him about them while reading. He gave a little nod as he plucked up a rag to wipe off his dirty hands. “And?” he prompted.

Aziraphale hummed and averted his gaze, grinning now in the direction of a blueberry bush Crowley had been cultivating. “Well, as discussions of this sort have a way of doing, things got a little...hmm...playful?”

Crowley finished cleaning off his hands, tossed the rag aside, and turned fully toward his angel with a mischievous tip to the corner of his mouth. “Angel,” he said slowly, “Love of mine...are you trying to tell me that you and your group of literature-loving hens were talking about  _ ssssex _ ?”

Aziraphale’s cheeks flushed an even brighter pink, but he was still grinning, clearly quite pleased with himself. “As a matter of fact, we did!” he exclaimed. His hands clapped together excitedly, like a child with a wonderful secret to share. “And you’ll never guess which particular topic came up!”

By this point Crowley couldn’t help but chuckle. He slithered forward to snake his arms around his husband’s midsection, drawing him close enough to partake of his lovely warmth. “Oh, do tell.”

Aziraphale’s grin had reached peak exuberance as he returned the hug and leaned back to make sure he could meet his husband’s eye. “We talked about how it’s practically impossible for me to get anything done when I’ve got such a delicious ‘piece of ass’ wandering around the house all day!”

Crowley wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but  _ that _ certainly hadn’t been it. His reaction was halfway between a snort and a cough, resulting in a kind of choking gasp that turned his face bright red. “O-oh, is that ssso?” he managed once he could breathe again. He was trying to sound nonchalant, but knew damn well that, even in his inebriated state, Aziraphale would know precisely how flustered he actually was.

“Oh yes,” the angel assured him, nodding and nuzzling closer. “The ladies in particular were quite curious as to how I’m able to keep from throwing myself at you at any available opportunity.”

Despite himself, Crowley felt hot all over, midway between embarrassed and aroused by his angel’s retelling. Aziraphale’s fingers were wandering up and down the demon’s back, eliciting delightful shivers. “What...what did you tell them?” he asked, swallowing hard. 

Aziraphale licked his lips slowly, holding his husband’s gaze the entire time, and smirked impishly. “I told them that I  _ don’t _ ,” he proclaimed. 

In the next moment Crowley was yelping with surprise as he found himself being literally swept off his feet and into his angel’s strong, steady arms. Aziraphale had sneakily dispensed the alcohol from his bloodstream in mid-motion and now looked down at his flushed, red demon with undeniable lust in his eyes. “Come to bed with me, darling?” he asked in a low voice.

Crowley, having rather lost his ability to respond verbally, simply nodded.

And as his husband carted him across the snow-covered garden and back toward the cottage, the demon made a mental note to send a giant box of Christmas chocolates and a bottle of wine to everyone in the angel’s book club. 


	31. Day 31: New Year's Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale enjoy a RATHER intimate New Year's Eve...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, my darlings! It's about a week behind schedule, but finally here is the last entry in my 2020 Ineffable Holiday series! I hope that you've enjoyed it; I know I certainly have. ^_^ Here's to 2021 being a better year for us all! <3
> 
> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

“So, angel, you making any New Year's resolutions?”

Crowley watched his husband’s face carefully from over the top of his wine glass as he took a long, drawn-out sip. Aziraphale’s brow crinkled adorably, the soft haze in his eyes from the several bottles they’d already consumed lending a kind of far-away calm to the look. 

It was New Year’s Eve, and the angel and the demon had been drinking since dinner, which had been a rather lovely Shepherd’s Pie Aziraphale had managed to perfect since he’d first taken to cooking. There were bottles littered around the living area, and music playing on Aziraphale’s ancient gramophone. 

(The music that was playing ranged erratically from that which would have been recorded in the same decade the device was produced, to that which had been recorded by artists far too young to even know what a gramophone  _ was _ .)

They were both pleasantly tipsy, sprawled across the living room sofa in a way that had legs tangled and throw blankets tossed in every direction. Crowley was warm and happy and couldn’t help the way he was smiling besottedly at his husband as the angel considered the question he’d posed. 

“I suppose,” Aziraphale said slowly, a quirk of a smile on his face, “that I could take a page out of the humans’ book and resolve to lose some weight…”

He barely had the words out of his mouth before Crowley was upon him, his glass banished to the coffee table, his legs gone akimbo in his desperation to get his arms wrapped around his angel’s middle. “Don’t you  _ dare _ ,” he growled, nuzzling his face possessively into Aziraphale’s belly. “This is  _ mine _ .”

The angel chuckled, clearly pleased by the reaction. A moment later his glass had also been banished and his fingers had made their way into Crowley’s hair, idly massaging his scalp. The demon’s growl rapidly devolved into a purr, his body melting against his husband’s. “Ssss’ nice…” he sighed, eyes fluttering helplessly under Aziraphale’s ministrations. 

Aziraphale hummed and continued to work, one hand sinking lower to dip beneath his demon’s collar and scratch gently at the back of his neck. That earned him another purr and a little moan, and Crowley could practically  _ hear _ the angel grinning up above him. 

“Perhaps,” he said after a time, “I shall resolve to spoil you more often.”

There was no denying the way Crowley’s body immediately reacted to the statement, but he did his best to brush it off with a scoff and a snort. “As if you don’t already spoil me far more than I deserve,” he muttered against his husband’s belly. 

It was the wrong thing to say, because the next thing he knew, Crowley was flat on his back, his angel hovering over him with a stern glare in his eyes and a stubborn set to his jaw. “Impossible,” Aziraphale rumbled deep in his chest. “You deserve far more than I could ever give, Anthony J. Crowley, and I’ll hear no argument against it.”

Crowley swallowed hard and failed to speak because the show of angelic strength and the conviction with which Aziraphale spoke on this topic had his throat gone dry and his trousers feeling quite snug. In lieu of words he nodded, and was a bit embarrassed to hear the needy little whine that escaped his throat. 

Aziraphale’s gaze softened at the sound, his eyes flashing with understanding. Without warning he slowly moved lower, gently grinding his own body down against Crowley’s, providing just enough friction to make the demon whine again. “Oh look,” the angel teased, wriggling his hips maddeningly slowly. “An opportunity to make good on my resolution already.”

Crowley bit back the sound of desperation that he knew was working its way up his throat, but when he managed to speak his voice was embarrassingly breathless. “S’ not even the new year yet, you know.”

Aziraphale made a sound of ascent and made a show of slowly reaching down for his pocket watch. “Hmm, yes…” he agreed, gazing down at the watch. Then he looked back to his husband, blue eyes meeting gold with a heavy heat that brought back that desperate sound Crowley had worked so hard to avoid. “I suppose we shall have to make this last, then,” the angel suggested, “until the clock strikes twelve…”

It was sweet torture. Aziraphale undressed Crowley piece by piece, taking all the time in the world, treating each removal as delicately as if he’d been repairing one of his precious books. He allowed only the barest brushes of skin on skin while he worked, occasionally letting a knuckle or the tip of a finger drag against his demon’s body as it was uncovered. Crowley thought he might combust from the gentle intensity of it, every inch of him screaming out to be touched. Twice he attempted to reach for his angel’s clothes, to return the favor and get them both bare faster, but Aziraphale lightly swatted his hands away. When the demon was fully nude and practically begging for touch, the angel took his wrists in each of his hands and lifted them above Crowley’s head, placing them against the arm of the sofa. “ _ Stay _ ,” he said, simply, and the demon shivered with the power of the word. 

Had his undressing been torture? Crowley couldn’t recall because this -  _ this _ \- was equally better and worse. He lay still and obedient, fingers flexing against the sofa and cock twitching needily against his stomach, while Aziraphale stripped just as slowly above him. The angel made no concessions for the fact that he wore twice as many layers; if anything he only seemed to move  _ slower _ , holding his husband’s gaze the entire time. It seemed as though  _ hours _ passed before finally,  _ finally _ , there wasn’t a single strip of clothing between them and Aziraphale was leaning in, closer, closer…

Crowley nearly sobbed when the angel’s lips grazed against his jaw, trailing a featherlight touch down the length of his throat, hot breath puffing against his Adam’s apple. The demon’s heels dug into the sofa cushions, his arms held rigidly - willingly, submissively - above his head. His hips ached for motion, but he fought it back and instead let a gasp of hunger as his husband’s tongue dipped along his clavicle. “A-Angel…” His voice was scarcely a croak, shaky and longing. “Please, angel…”

“Yes, my love,” said Aziraphale, his breath tickling the demon’s skin. “I know… I know what you need, my precious darling…” As though to prove it, a hand drifted down Crowley’s body, barely brushing the surface, until it reached the sharp angles of his desperate hips. The angel’s fingers hovered momentarily, then bypassed the demon’s aching cock to dip under a leg and haul it up, hooking it over the back of the sofa so that his arse was lifted slightly. Crowley was keening, biting his lip  _ hard _ by the time Aziraphale’s fingers returned, miraculously slicked, and dipped beneath him. “Is this what you need, my gorgeous creature?” the angel asked before gently taking a nipple between his teeth. 

Between the delicious pinch against his nipple and the teasing way those fingers were massaging playfully at his entrance, there was simply no logical way to expect Crowley to form words. So, instead, he made a little high-pitched squeal in the back of his throat, trusting his angel to know what it meant. 

He was rewarded when Aziraphale smiled against his chest, laved his tongue against the reddened nipple, and carefully pressed a finger inside. 

As the angel slowly worked the finger in and out, Crowley fought against his natural desire to squirm and reveled in the fact that, no matter how many times they did this, it somehow felt like the first time. That was to say, his heart raced, his lungs burned, and his body clenched and relaxed in turn, delighting in the slight burn, the delicious pressure, the need for  _ more _ -

Crowley didn’t know whether he’d expressed his thoughts aloud or Aziraphale had taken to reading his mind, but he couldn’t have cared less either way, because a second finger was following the second and soft, wet lips were working their way down his ribs, and then those fingers were crooking in just the right way, and-

“Shhh, love…” a soothing voice whispered, sweet and heavy with lust. “I’ve got you, darling. I’ve got you…”

He wasn’t sure whether minutes or hours passed, but at some point two fingers became three, and then they were gone altogether, drawing a cry of protest from the demon before he could stop himself. Hardly a moment later, however, he felt the blunt head of his angel’s cock against him, rubbing back and forth, gently teasing. 

“Oh my love, just look at you…” 

Crowley hadn’t realized that his eyes had closed, but now, at the husky quality of Aziraphale’s voice, he reopened them just enough to see his angel gazing down at him with unparalleled adoration. It made the demon feel as though his entire body was on fire, burning clear through to whatever he had in place of a soul. 

“You are positively the most perfect creature in all of Her creation,” Aziraphale said, sounding breathless. 

The flames increased, threatening to burn Crowley to dust. “M’not,” he whimpered, but it was all the argument he could muster. 

“You  _ are _ ,” the angel insisted, and pressed forward, breaching the demon and ripping a gasp from him. He pushed on slowly, millimeter by millimeter, and showered his lover with praises all the while. “You are  _ gorgeous _ , more beautiful than anything else I’ve ever set eyes on. You are stronger and more brave than any of the denizens of Heaven or Hell. You are kind, and clever, and thoughtful, and-” The litany cut off rather suddenly as Aziraphale bottomed out and devolved into a low moan. “F- _ fuck _ , you’re so  _ tight _ .”

Had he not already been so far gone, Crowley might have laughed at that, but with his ever nerve ending alight, his chest tight from his angel’s words, and his body gloriously,  _ perfectly _ full, he couldn’t muster up much more than a soft smile and a small sob. 

It was only a few more deep breaths before Aziraphale began to move, slowly at first, and then gradually building speed. As he moved faster and harder, further praises fell from his angelic lips. Little desperate gasps of, “So perfect-” and, “Mine, all mine-” and, “So good, oh fuck, you’re so good-” that felt like hot wax dripping over Crowley’s chest. 

The demon’s mind felt gloriously blank, his whole body hot and tight and building toward something magnificent. When every thrust began to strike that perfect spot, the one that made him see stars, Crowley clenched his fingers tight and managed to find just a few words: “A-angel-  _ Please-  _ Can I-?”

Aziraphale’s fingers were pressed deep into his demon’s hips, his eyes lidded and jaw hanging in pleasure. He never missed a beat, but he heard his husband’s request and responded without hesitation. “Yes-  _ Yes _ , darling- Touch yourself for me, my love.  _ Come _ for me.”

Immediately one hand flew to Crowley’s neglected cock, the other fisting in his hair to ground himself against the sudden excess of sensation. A wail flew from him as he began to pump in earnest, knowing that the end was near, feeling the climb rapidly reaching the mountain’s peak-

He thought he may have screamed, but couldn’t be certain because, for a few moments, he couldn’t hear or see anything at all. All that existed was the hot pulse of fluid against his chest and stomach, and the increasingly stuttered thrusts of his angel’s cock as his body clenched tight around it. Waves of pleasure crashed over and over him, robbing the demon of breath and thought and most of his other faculties as well. He was still shaking and groaning through the aftershocks when he felt Aziraphale’s body still and pulse hot and deep within him. Somewhere - far, far in the back of his mind - he vaguely recognized the sound of Aziraphale’s grandfather clock striking twelve. 

Crowley wasn’t sure when or how they’d gotten there, but the next thing he knew they were in their bed. He was being gathered up in his angel’s arms, held warm and tight as a blanket was brought up around their shoulders and a kiss was pressed to his forehead. 

“How do you feel, my dearest?” Aziraphale hummed, nuzzling into the demon’s hair. 

Crowley made a deep purring sound against the angel’s chest and grinned, snaking an arm around his belly. “Mmm...like I just got fucked into a puddle of goo,” he murmured. Aziraphale snorted, then chuckled, and Crowley happily joined him while they squeezed each other tight. 

“So, my sweet,” the angel said sometime later, with a playful lilt to his voice. “What is  _ your _ New Year’s resolution?”

**Author's Note:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Ineffable Holiday 2020, Ch18: Wine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28174413) by [SkyAsimaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyAsimaru/pseuds/SkyAsimaru)
  * [[Podfic] Ineffable Holiday 2020, Ch17: Music](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28308603) by [SkyAsimaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyAsimaru/pseuds/SkyAsimaru)
  * [[Podfic] Ineffable Holiday 2020, Ch12: Candles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28675251) by [SkyAsimaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyAsimaru/pseuds/SkyAsimaru)




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